


Of Ropes and Shoelaces

by InkyJustine



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Body Worship, Bondage, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Past Rape/Non-con, Past-Mark Jefferson/Nathan Prescott, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Recovery, Therapy, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-02-17 00:59:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13065828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkyJustine/pseuds/InkyJustine
Summary: An unlucky encounter in a dingy bathroom brings Nathan and Warren together, years after Blackwell.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The fic is pretty much done, but needs more editing so have a first chapter to get started. :)
> 
> Please don't expect a 100% accurate portrayal of PTSD or mental illness.

The ground was shaking with the force of the bass. 

People pushed roughly past him as Nathan bobbed his head to the music, hesitating in the doorway. He had dressed fancily, slicked back his hair. In front of him the mass of bodies moved almost as one, like the ocean, tiding from side to side. 

It had been so long. Four long years since his last party, back in the Vortex club around Halloween. At least it had been _planned_ to happen that month… His heart did it's now familiar race at the memory and what had followed. Another shove and he stepped to the side, taking refuge in a dark corner, away from the press of people. Strangers. Too many at once to even count. Sweat broke out over his skin, but Nathan pushed away from the wall and towards the bar, counting to ten under his breath. 

To his relief his voice got lost under the deafening music.

His therapist had asked him to socialize, so he was going to try. 

At the bar he signalled the bartender, old familiar rage kindling in his belly when it took a while. His fingers tapped away on the bar counter, a rabid rhythm until he curled them into fists. To distract himself, he let his eyes roam over the other partygoers, having fun and dancing to the noise. This club, Nathan knew, had different halls for different music and once he had his drink he would venture around, get a feel for the place. And figure out where the bathrooms were. Nathan felt dizzy already. Had the air always felt so thick? He couldn’t recall, but it made it harder to breath. 

One of the bartenders turning their attention to him broke Nathan out of his darkening thoughts and he quickly ordered his drink. Once his fingers curled around the glass, he slapped a dollar note on the counter and walked away without waiting for his change. A girl bumped into him, laughing with her friends and taking no note of him.   
Nathan ducked his head. If he had any friends left after four years locked away, he would have asked them to join him. 

Victoria and Hayden… of all the people he had pretended to be his friends, he missed them the most. 

Nathan shook his head. Obviously they hadn’t missed him, judging by how quickly they had dropped him as the police led him away from _Her_ cooling body. His mouth twisted. The memory still hurt like shards of glass digging into his psyche, leaving him to count to ten again and again, jostled by the crowd. He couldn’t breath. He shouldn’t have come here. 

Blindly, his palm found the wall, leaving the press of bodies behind. He dug his fingernails into the plaster, closed his eyes until he felt less ready to pass out.

“Hey, are you alright?” 

The voice made Nathan jump. It belonged to a man, he saw when he opened his eyes, looking at him with what Nathan had to guess was worry. 

“Yeah,” Nathan lied, “just enjoying the music.”

The stranger laughed and shrugged. “It can be a little overwhelming. Do you come here often?” As he asked that, he tilted his head. His face was earnest, framed by light-colored locks that reminded Nathan vaguely of Kate, but his eyes were dark. They made Nathan just a little uneasy, but then, that was his natural state it seemed so ignored it.

_Be nice._

Nathan tried to smile. “First time actually. I was out of town for a while.” In fact, Nathan hadn’t been in this town at all, but no point in the guy asking him where he was from. For his start into college he had deliberately chosen something as far from Acadia Bay as humanly possible. 

“Then welcome back,” the guy said with a grin and clinked their glasses together. “What’s your name?” His voice was pleasant.

“Nathan,” Nathan said and after a moment of hesitation added, “Prescott.”

“Nathan Prescott, welcome to the city,” the stranger said and looked over his shoulder. “Want to dance?”

Nathan raised his shoulders. “Yeah why not.”

They went out on the dance floor, bodies pressing in on them on all sides. It made Nathan’s skin crawl and it was only once the stranger was pressed against his front, grinding against him, that he realized that he hadn’t even asked him for his name.   
Dancing with him was… alright regardless. Nathan closed his eyes, taking a sip from his drink. 

“Hey, do you know that guy?” the stranger asked suddenly, broad hands on Nathan’s waist. 

Nathan followed his gaze over his shoulder. A dark mop of hair was staring at him, half a head taller than the rest of the crowd. He looked familiar, but Nathan couldn’t place him.  
He turned back to his dance partner and downed the rest of his drink in one go, coughing when that made his throat burn. The bitter aftertaste was less pleasant than he remembered. 

“I don’t think so,” Nathan answered a beat too late. He shook his head and rubbed a hand over his face when that made the room spin. 

“You don’t look so good,” the man said, “let’s get you somewhere quiet.”

An uneasy feeling turned Nathan’s belly. He stumbled when the guy laid his arm around him and lead him through the crowd and towards a set of doors. 

The bathrooms. 

“I’m fine,” Nathan protested, but his limbs felt leaden. The cool, less heavy air of the men’s bathroom hit him smelling of urine and the man propped him against the wall before going to the door. “What are you doing?” Nathan slurred out. Even his tongue felt leaden, hard to move. 

“Just checking that we’re not going to get company,” the man grinned and stopped in front of Nathan. Suddenly he was very close. Nathan couldn’t remember blinking but the man’s face was only an inch from his. 

“Nathan Prescott,” he said and ice dropped into Nathan’s belly. By now his arms didn’t obey him anymore. Nathan wanted to push him away. “I’ve heard all about you. You’ve got some nerve crossing my path.”

“I didn’t plan to,” Nathan wanted to tell him, but when he opened his mouth no sound came out. 

_Always check your drink._ An advice the Vortex club had always joked about and Nathan had nastily thought the same thing the night of Kate’s video. 

Suddenly, Nathan’s front was pressed against the wall, snapping him back to the present. 

“You hurt all these girls and my niece, so now I’m going to do the same to you.” 

Nathan squirmed uselessly. His uncoordinated flailing arms were pressed easily against the wall, restraining him. There was no fight. 

The trial had been hell. Unbidden his thoughts drifted back to it. Four years ago. It had been the worst few days of his life, followed by a time he would rather forget, but he would have given anything to be back there again instead of being here. Nathan would have given even more to have stayed home tonight instead of trying to socialize. 

He would have given anything to just have killed himself when he had the chance.

Weirdly enough, the stay at the mental institution had turned out not to be so bad after the first year. Nathan still couldn't wrap his mind around it. Being locked into a psychiatric institution had been _good_ , if you used a rather skewed definition of 'good' in which you weren't allowed to leave a building and had to take a combination of medication and a variety of therapy. Not perfect in the slightest. Half the time, Nathan had still just wanted to run. 

It was fucked up. _He_ had been fucked up.

Nathan couldn’t count the times that he'd been sedated or brought to what his handlers called the 'quiet room' during his first year. Later on it had almost turned into a sort of fucked-up haven. A place where Jefferson couldn't touch him; he was rotting in prison. A place where his father couldn't reach him; Nathan would have paid good money to see his face when they had turned him away, deeming him too dangerous to Nathan's mental health. He had laughed so hard that his warden had to sedate him _again_ , but it had been worth it. God, it had been _worth it_ , the sudden relief to know he was out of his father's clutches, out of Jefferson's reach. People were still pushing him, but at least he couldn't _hurt anyone_.

The orderlies hadn’t let him.

He wished he was back there now, instead of this dirty bathroom with his head clouded by a drug that asshole had slipped him. The stranger pushed his weight against Nathan's back, pressing him more harshly against the wall and making it even harder to breath. His ribcage hurt. When Nathan heard the sound of a zipper being pulled down, he felt bile in his mouth. He fought it down before he could choke on it while his pants dropped to the floor along with his underwear. Maybe choking was a good idea after all. It would save him the pain and humiliation of this. There was nothing he could do, no way to defend himself. His arms weren't listening to him. His whole body wasn't listening to him. He couldn't move except in jerky ineffective motions. 

Who was this guy anyways? 

Nathan had never seen him in his life. Tomorrow he would have to explain to his therapist why he had taken drugs again. She would be so disappointed… In Nathan’s mind she wouldn’t see the difference between being slipped some and making a choice. He closed his eyes, fight going out of him.

_Just count to three._

"You're going to regret ever drugging all those girls," the guy grunted behind him. Joke was on him; Nathan already regretted it ever since the full weight of what he had done had hit him, which was about a two years and a half ago. It was a wonder what better meds could do to your mental stability… and your ability to reflect on your wrongdoings. Nathan hadn't asked for it. Denial had hurt less. A whole lot of things had hurt less through a haze of drugs. There were days he wished he could go back, but then he remembered Jefferson's touch and stopped himself. To _him_ he had been nothing more than a glorified lapdog. 

"You're going to pay for hurting them," the guy said, grunting. Another zipper found it's way down. There was a first slide of something blunt and fleshy against Nathan's ass and he braced himself.

He had never hurt anyone, not like this. All the hurt had been on the inside where it counted, but he had never _raped_ anyone. Why did everyone insist he did, Nathan distantly wondered. Everyone who hadn't been involved in the trials that was. He hadn't thought anyone outside the town would care. He should have paid more attention to the news, but everything he gathered had been in retrospect. The facility hadn't looked kindly about upsetting their “patients”. 

Now, with Jefferson safely away in prison Nathan had to take the fall. Jefferson would have been so proud of his work. Nathan couldn't get more corrupted than this. 

Nathan squeezed his eyes shut more tightly when the pressure intensified, not yet penetrating but it was only a matter of time before his body had to give. His heart was in his throat. He would be sore tomorrow, if the guy didn't kill him. Tears slid down his cheeks. 

He would remember this.

Sometimes he had woken up sore after helping Jefferson, with no memory of what he had done. In this white spaces in his memory Rachel had happened. Her ghost was still following him around.

She wouldn’t enjoy seeing him this way.

The door chose that moment to open. Nathan's arms were twisted behind his back, so he couldn’t even turn around. He didn't even manage to flinch, but he felt the guy behind him jump, his _rapist_. Nathan's heart tried it's best to beat out of his chest. He was shivering as if he was cold. 

He had just wanted to go out, get involved, make friends now that he was in college. A couple of real ones. His therapist had told him to. 

Nathan would have to talk to her about this.

"Get the fuck off of him!" 

The voice was familiar, but distantly so. Like Nathan may have known it in another life. It came closer, rapidly and just like that the weight on his back was wretched away, leaving Nathan free to sink down the wall. His legs didn't want to support his weight. He was _bare_ from the waist down, pants still pooled around his ankles. With tremendous effort he turned his head just to see the dark-haired guy who had stared at him in the crowd punch his assailant in the face before kicking him while he was down. The man pushed up and Nathan watched helplessly as he ran from the room. 

The _other_ stranger was breathing hard. Nathan must have made a soft noise, because he whirled around and suddenly Nathan was even more aware of his state.

He knew this guy. He could vaguely remember seeing him in the dorms, so many years ago. Felt like forever now. 

_Warren Graham._

"Are you alright?" 

What a stupid question. Nathan's mouth opened and closed without a word coming out. 

"Of course you're not!" Warren hurried to say, wild rage on his face turning to sheepish and just like that he was behind Nathan, helping him to wobbly feet. Nathan's face burned when Warren pulled up his pants. He really wanted to tell him to fuck off, just like the good old times. 

"I'll get you out of here," Warren promised. Nathan's feet kept him standing, thankfully, but he could only shuffle along when Warren threw one of Nathan's arms over his shoulder. One of Warren’s own arms wrapped snug around Nathan's middle, making him feel hot and uncomfortable. He hadn't been touched in four years, except for his handlers and the few times he and a fellow inmate had snuck off to get intimate. He didn't like a ghost of his past touching him, but he couldn't push Warren away either. 

It was weird. Suddenly Warren had been turned from past nerd to white knight, saving Nathan the damsel from peril. Nathan let out a small laugh at the thought, heart still beating frantically against his ribcage. To his relief, Warren didn’t comment on the sudden outburst.

Only a few people glanced their way when Warren guided them through the crowded club. Nathan just wanted out, be back at his snug little apartment he bought himself and relearn how to breathe; give his heart a chance to calm the fuck down, not shuffle along like a zombie across the parking lot and let Warren prop him up against an old ratty blue car. Then he was oddly gentle when he guided Nathan into the passenger seat. 

"I'll bring you to the police station," Warren said while he put the keys into the ignition. 

"No," Nathan pressed out. Oh Jesus, finally his voice worked again or maybe it was only the horror at the prospect at talking with a couple of cops. Once they found out who he was, they weren't going to be so nice. They would probably be disappointed the guy hadn't finished him and hid his corpse.

"No," Nathan said again and left it at that. All the rest of his energy felt used up by that single word.

Warren didn't look happy about it. "Fine, your choice. I don't know where you live." He glanced over at Nathan. His gaze was almost like a caress, trying to soothe Nathan like some startled animal. Nathan looked away. "So tell me where you live and I’ll take you there at least. You don’t look fit to walk."

Nathan swallowed.

Then he swallowed again, trying to get his voice to work, to either tell Warren to fuck off or to tell him…

“You’re just going to kill me.” _If you knew where I lived._ The words just came out, but the rest of them were lost. Nathan’s eyes burned and he didn’t know _why_. There was so much to chose from. 

Beside him, Warren’s eyes had widened. “I wouldn’t!” he protested. “You need to sleep it off if you don’t want me to take you to the hospital or the police. I’m voting either, by the way,” he continued, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. “I’m not going to touch you beyond the necessary, alright?”

The implication of the _other thing_ almost happening made Nathan’s belly turn. Warren must have realized what was about to happen, because he leaned over Nathan more quickly than he could see and opened the passenger door just as Nathan folded into himself and threw up, onto the pavement luckily.

“Are you sure you shouldn’t go to the hospital?” Warren asked timidly when Nathan was done. 

Nathan told him his address instead.

The rest of the ride... wasn't silent, even though Nathan could have used some. He counted to ten in his head, itching to put his hands into his pockets. But when he tried to, his hand had only moved sluggishly. He didn't want to drop anything. He would wait. He could wait. Had to wait while Warren was chattering away, telling him about his impression of the club, _bitching_ about it. He was clearly angry, upset. Whatever for. Nothing had _happened_ and Nathan would just suppress it until it was time for therapy again, mandatory two times a week. He could forget about this evening for another whole two days. 

Nathan must have dropped off despite Warren's voice, because he jerked awake a while later, breathing hard with his heart racing. Warren's hand hovered over his shoulder, standing in the open door of the passenger side of his car. He looked apologetic. 

"I'm sorry," Warren said. "I didn't mean to wake you up. To be honest, you look like you could use the sleep, but we're here." 

_Jeez, did the guy ever take a breath?_ Nathan thought moodily. _Did he ever stop talking?_

'Here' turned out to be the street right in front of Nathan’s apartment building. Nathan felt so tired as Warren helped him out of the car and to the building, he didn’t even fight it when Warren wrapped an arm around his middle again. In front of the door Nathan closed his eyes while Warren rummaged around in his pants for the keys, trying to swallow down a new wave of bile at the touch, every single one feeling like too much. 

“I’m sorry.” At least Warren sounded sincere when he said it. Up the stairs they stumbled and another flight of stairs and Nathan wanted to scream at his body to get over it already. His head was fuzzy, but finally they reached the door to Nathan’s apartment. Warren leaned him against the wall beside it while he fumbled the key again, using only his left hand and holding onto Nathan with his right. 

They shuffled in and Warren let out a whistle. “Nice flat you got.” 

“Bed is through there,” Nathan said, ignoring the words and trying to keep from heaving at the implication of his own. For his part, Warren wasted no time in depositing Nathan on the mattress, where Nathan simply _collapsed_. He was so tired. He just wanted to sleep and forget everything. From under his lashes he watched anxiously as Warren sank to his feet beside the bed. Nathan’s chest clenched. It suited him, Nathan thought, wondering where that had come from. If he had a camera he would have shot a photo even though he couldn't tell _why_. Just some dude on the ground. Nothing special. _Warren_ didn't look special, but Nathan liked his eyes. There was still anger in them, but not aimed at Nathan. Oddly enough there was care and worry in them when they looked at Nathan. A tug at his feet distracted him from that line of thought and despite himself he flinched when his shoes thumped against the floor. 

Then Nathan flinched again when Warren reached for him and Warren froze. "Sorry," he said apologetically, "of course you don't want to be touched right now. Here, let me help you."

Nathan grunted when Warren pulled on the blanket trapped under Nathan's weight, keeping his fingers well away from him. With a bit of struggle they managed to get Nathan underneath it. 

"Sleep well, Prescott," Warren whispered, inching away. “Please don’t die just cause I didn’t bring you to the hospital.”

Nathan ignored his words. The bed was comfy. His eyes slid shut without him telling them to, before he could make a scathing remark in return. Distantly, he was aware of Warren leaving and wanted to hit himself for not paying enough attention, but his body was too heavy to struggle to his feet again. 

He fell asleep.

 

Some undetermined time later Nathan woke up, too hot and mouth feeling like cotton, tasting like bile. He was disoriented. For a moment he didn’t recognize the room. Panicky, he stumbled to his feet or tried to at the very least. Some kind of blanket was wrapped around him, making him fall. A lamp shattered as he hit the ground. Shaking, he stayed where he was as the memories of the last night washed over him. 

Fuck.

He squeezed his eyes shut and pushed to his feet, collapsing back on the bed and frantically went through his pockets until he could pull out the string and wrap it around his wrists.

_You’re safe. You’re safe!_

Outside this room was his apartment. He was safe here, he repeated the words like a mantra. No stranger had brought him home last night, just some ghost from the past. 

Nathan pulled the string tighter. In reality it was only a shoelace he had gotten at some point. It wasn't a particularly pretty one either in a gaudy pink which had made him nostalgic for a time where it had been Victoria’s favorite color. Buying it had been on a whim and his therapist hadn't been too happy the first time Nathan had brought it up, because it was just long enough that he could harm himself with it if he really wanted to, but it helped now as he wrapped it around his wrists, curled up in bed and just tried to breathe. 'Count to ten' Nathan thought and did, closing his eyes. He felt like he was unraveling at the seams.

The string was twisted around both his hands, tying them up and together and he tucked them between his thighs to stop them shaking. For some reason it never failed to ease his twitching, the tremors, even if only for a little while. He moved his hands, felt the string cut into his skin, but not painfully so. Nathan eased the pressure, the restraint was what calmed him, not the pain and he didn't care about making his hands turn purple. It would have only made it more difficult to pick up a camera. Or his sketchbook.

At least with his hands tied he couldn't shoot anybody, couldn't drug anyone, couldn't _hurt_ anyone. Except himself, but that was fine, even if his therapist had a different opinion.

The man from last night, he wanted to find _him_.

Again, he tightened the string to the point of pain, counted to ten, out loud this time and tried not to think about the past. It always came back, everything. Every shit thing he had done and every shit thing that had been done to him. Now he had the stranger of last night to add to the list. Nathan's stomach rolled at the thought. A tremor ran through his body and he untied the string, re-tied his hands, rinse and repeat until the urge to run to the bathroom to throw up faded.

The sound of his bedroom door opening made him flinch violently. 

“Hey, are you alright?”

It was Warren. Warren _motherfucking_ Graham was still in his flat and looking at him with big wide pretty eyes, _at the pink shoelace wrapped around Nathan’s wrists_.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Nathan pressed out, voice tight and mind racing. Quickly, he untied the string, fumbling and feeling his face heat up. 

Fortunately, Warren looked up towards the ceiling while Nathan made himself presentable. “I’m just- I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean to intrude on anything.” He turned around, as if Nathan was _naked_ and in a sense Nathan was. At least he felt bare, stripped to the bones in front of this-- this ghost from his past. 

Just like that, the memory of Warren pressing in behind him haunted him as well, as he rolled to his feet, string safely tucked away in his pockets. For some reason the memory didn’t make him feel quite as sick. Or at least not much.

Warren wisely stepped out of his way when Nathan pushed past him. “I’ll go now, right?” Nathan saw him looking at the pictures on his apartment wall. They were of faceless individuals, artfully tied up. Nathan had quite liked putting them up, but now that only made his face burn hotly as well. 

“No,” he surprised himself by saying. 

Warren visibly floundered. 

“After everything you did for me yesterday, I can treat you to breakfast at least.” Even to Nathan’s own ears it sounded more like a threat than an offer. Before Warren could answer Nathan stepped into the kitchen, only in part to hide his own mortification. He wasn’t even sure if he had anything decent in his fridge. 

A brief search luckily turned up some bread, cheese and other things to put on it while Warren stood timidly in the door frame. 

The breakfast was awkward, like a Morning After without the sex. Nathan swallowed as his belly turned. Even if the guy hadn’t tried doing _that_ , he wouldn’t have gone home with him. 

“Nathan, are you alright?” Warren asked him, breaking the awkward silence as he scarfed down the last of his slice. 

“Sure, I’m great,” Nathan lied, flicking a crumb from his thigh. When he glanced up, Warren was looking right at him, mouth open as if he wanted to say something. It made him look stupid, Nathan thought nastily but held his tongue.

Nathan had to think back on Mister Jefferson, so popular and handsome; quite a few girls would have gladly sank to their knees for him, not knowing that Nathan already did, just to hear his praise. The things they got up to in the Dark Room. Nathan had been the first to pose for him. And the first to bend over. He had been so desperate for his approval, any kind of praise or kind word and Jefferson had been so quick too. All of it had sounded genuine and then things had spiraled out of control. 

The memories made Nathan swallow. He glared at his wall, rage churning in his belly at Jefferson. The world. His parents. _himself_. 

_Whatthefuckever._

Warren flinched when Nathan slammed his plate into the sink, almost breaking it. Nathan exhaled, inhaled, counted to three.

“I’m sorry,” Nathan heard himself say, “you should probably leave.” 

Behind him, he heard Warren’s chair scrap along the floor. Then, to his puzzlement, the sound of a pen scratching against paper, but Nathan didn’t turn around. He would have cried otherwise, just started bawling like there was no tomorrow and Warren _Gayham_ of all people didn’t have to see that. No one had to.   
He bit his lip. 

“Hey Nathan,” Warren said quietly, “I left you my number. Call if you need anything.”

What a fucking idiot. What was he thinking? 

Nathan squeezed his eyes shut. 

Only when the click of the front door, loud in the silence, signalled Warren’s exit did Nathan turn around. On the table lay a note with a number scrawled on it. Nathan carried it to the trashcan, hesitated, and pinned it up on his blackboard beside his grocery list.

Then he locked his front door and went to bed, pulling out the shoelace again now that he was truly alone. After a while, when he felt calm enough again, he rolled sluggishly to his feet once more. 

His clothes reeked, so he took them off and showered, leaning his forehead against the cool tiles. Exhaustion was dragging at him, but if he hurried he could still catch his last class of the day. If he hurried he may just be able to outrun his ghosts. He took a banana with him to eat even though he knew he was just going to throw it away once it turned brown in his bag. His therapist was always on his ass about eating regularly. 

He chucked down his meds with a glass of water and went out.


	2. Chapter 2

“How have you been this last week?” his therapist asked him with a pleasant smile. 

She was nice, Nathan mused while his mind raced to come up with a suitable answer, not the first professional he had seen in his life, but the first one his father had no access to. Or rather, the first outside of the facility.

Nathan sunk a little lower in his chair, before realizing what he was doing and straightening again. The last few days he’d been thinking, which was, he had to admit, probably not a good idea. If she had been around, Victoria would have called him out for brooding. 

For a moment he stayed silent, sorting his thoughts, and prayed that his therapist wasn’t going to take it the wrong way. 

“Everything has been fine,” he finally lied. His breath didn’t hitch, even though his fingers itched for the string. The ‘incident’ was in the past now and anyway, nothing had really happened; Graham had made sure of that. So there was no need to bother his therapist with it. 

 

Art class after was... dry, which was just as well as Nathan’s eyes threatened to slip shut on him. Theory wasn't his favorite subject at the best of times and even less so if he’d had one of his appointments beforehand. His mind started wandering all by itself.

The first day of class he'd been relieved when his teacher turned out to be some old unattractive man. He didn't think he could have stomached seeing his fellow students fawn over him. Another _Jefferson_. Nathan shuddered and looked around, uneasy at being seen acting _weird_ again. He tried, god he tried to be normal or at least seem that way. He had chosen a college far away from Arcadia Bay for that reason. A fresh beginning. 

Of course, his father had been furious at him not going to the most expensive school in the country, some elite business school.

Nathan took the time to doodle while his teacher droned on, rattling down his lecture like it was going out of style, and tried to shake off the cling of the past. 

Victoria, Nathan knew, went to the same college as him, more than a semester ahead and studying photography. She had always wanted to and kept on wanting to despite what had happened in Arcadia Bay. They hadn’t seen each other in the last years, thanks to Nathan being locked up and he couldn't fault her, no matter how angry it made him to be dropped out of her life like that. Of course he knew _that_ only because he had stalked her social media like a creep.

At the front of the room, the teacher switched through his presentation, voice a distant hum to Nathan. The boy sitting beside him jawned.

The first year he hadn't been allowed any pre-approved contact outside. And then over a year in it had been too weird to contact her. He had felt _ashamed_. Victoria deserved better than him anyway and who was he kidding, no one in Arcadia Bay gave a rat's ass about some Prescott in a mental facility, a prison for the mentally unsteady who had become criminals. 

Except Max, or whatever her motive had been to clear his name, telling the jury he had shot Chloe on accident. Hell, it was the truth, it just... had gone too fast. Everything. The rest of his life had fallen apart that day, Chloe had been the last blow it had needed to splinter. If he hadn't taken the gun with him to calm his nerves, maybe he would have _only_ had a breakdown, kicked her around a bit instead of becoming a _murderer_. 

On the page in front of him, the doodle turned violent, dark. Blood spread out in ink. It always did in moments like this. Nowadays he always took his notebook with him wherever he went. His therapist insisted that there was nothing wrong with what he drew, all the death and destruction. It was a manifestation of his issues, as she called it. She encouraged it, drawing, telling him it was healthy to let it all out on paper instead of _acting out_. She was nice, teaching him how to cope with his _illness_ , how to quiet the rage and the other dark things. He never showed anyone what he drew except her. No one was around who wanted to see it in any case. 

It was better that way. 

It was better that he didn't have any pseudo friends anymore. The first week out of the institution he had spent at home. Unsurprisingly, his parents hadn't even talked to him except to shout at his choice of college, but they kept pouring money into his bank account so Nathan guessed they still loved him or something. His days as the heir of the Prescott empire seemed to be over. 

_What a fucking relief._

 

Nathan's thoughts returned to Warren on his way to the next class. A week later and he still thought about the nerd turned savior. Even his number had made him from the note on his blackboard into Nathan’s phone. How the hell had he even known what was going on in the bathroom? He must have seen Nathan, before, being led away… 

In any case he had stepped in just in time and Nathan found he was... grateful for that. After the trial he hadn't thought anyone would help him out. Getting assaulted in some dingy bathroom was something he deserved, practically anyone in Arcadia Bay would agree.  
Not for the first time Nathan was glad to be nowhere near the city anymore. 

He shuddered. 

The trial.

No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t shake it. He just wanted to forget, but his thoughts returned to it over and over again. 

Out of all people, it had been Max who cleared him. Her words had gone a long way to keep him out of prison and get him into a mental institution instead. His father's money had done the rest. 

Meanwhile Jefferson had doomed himself. Nathan’s belly still rolled at the casual way Jefferson had relayed everything after he’d been caught, the expression on his father's face as his former teacher had told the room about the sexual relations they had, both consciously and unconsciously. Nathan should have paid more attention to the sores he had sometimes whose causes he never remembered and never questioned beyond a freak out. 

By the end of the trial Nathan had been weeping. Some of the folders holding the pictures of the girls he had never seen were passed around, including his own. Turned out Nathan never killed Rachel either, but Nathan didn't have it in him to feel relieved. It didn't make her less dead. And after all that shit Warren still had stepped in to keep him from harm. He must have known about everything that had happened, being friends with Max and all. Nathan didn't delude himself into thinking it had anything to do with him, Nathan, as a person, but as his therapist had said, he had to make an effort to be friendly and say thank you, for real this time. Even if Warren didn't want to hear it from a Prescott. 

Fact was, Warren didn't have to save him, there was no reward for it. He could have just left Nathan to die in that bathroom like Chloe Price.

Feeling almost as if in a trance, Nathan shoot Warren a text asking where he lived. 

The nerd answered within a blink of the eye, apparently desperate for some friends even if it was the crazy Prescott boy.

 

After class, Nathan found himself in front of Warren's dormitory room, courtesy of Warren describing the way to him. Students were out in the hallway, talking loudly and quietly with each other and Nathan skin crawled enough that he didn't waste any time before knocking. Anything to get him out of here faster and back to his apartment where no unkind eyes were on him. Fortunately for him, Warren didn't waste any time in opening the door either, much to Nathan's relief. 

The last time they had _met_ , Nathan hadn't been in a state to take him in, but now he did. 

Warren had grown in the last years, grown a little taller. Nathan hated how he instantly noticed that his shoulders had grown too, leaving him to belatedly wonder if Warren had picked up some kind of sport because he damn well looked like it. His hair was still longer than Nathan's, curling around his face.

His eyes were dark, warm. Warmer than they had any right to be while looking at a _Prescott_.

"Yes, Nathan?" Warren said when Nathan continued to stand mute in front of him, mind racing and coming up blank. 

Familiar anger curled in Nathan’s belly as he shook himself, to his relief metaphorical. "Can we talk?" So much for being nice and friendly. He knew he should have lead with a greeting or something normal people did instead of cutting straight to the point, but Warren didn't seem to mind too much. 

His face was much friendlier than Nathan's when he waved him in. 

"Welcome in my humble home," Warren joked as he closed the door behind them. 

Nathan looked around. It was nothing special. In fact it looked a little like the dorm rooms of Blackwell Academy. It was like being transported to the past.

"Thank you," Nathan said, a little belatedly, and cursed himself. Damn he felt awkward. How did one say they were grateful to have been saved from getting raped? He couldn't just say that, right? Oblivious to the internal conflict, Warren flopped down on his desk chair. 

"It was really no problem," Warren said, "anyone would have helped you. You're here because of, you know, _that night_ , right?"

Nathan froze. So much for the nerd being oblivious. "Yeah," he said, hoping that he didn't look as embarrassed as he felt, "thank you for saving me. I doubt anyone else would have."

Warren smiled at him, "Really, it was no problem. I'm glad I could help." Like a little child, he bobbed around in the chair

Nathan looked down at his feet. Alright, proper thank you out of the way he should leave, but Warren's next question pinned him to the ground once more.

"What did the guy want anyway?" His face turned sheepish and he rubbed the back of his neck, "beyond the obvious I mean." Then he waved his hands around in front of him. "If you want to talk about it of course!"

Nathan stood flabbergasted. "I-" he shuddered at the memory. The stranger had reeked of alcohol, but--. Nathan looked away. He’d been drinking, too. "He wanted to punish me for what happened in Arcadia Bay." The words came out more steady than he would have thought possible, only at the last word did his voice break.

Warren's face was serious, then curious. "I know you've been locked up and in therapy, did it-- did it help?"

Nathan glared at him. "What do you think? And I'm still in therapy." Likely would be till the end of his days, at least it felt that way. Jefferson was going to be in jail for the rest of _his life_ , too. All things considered, Nathan was the lucky one. 

In front of him, Warren raised his hands in a placating gesture. "I'm sorry, way out of line I know." He tilted his head. "You do seem like less of an asshole if that makes it better."

It didn't, but Nathan still felt his tense shoulders relax a little. "I did curse at you that morning," he pointed out.

"Hardly your fault after everything that happened. I should have used my brain and knocked." Warren laughed uncomfortably. "Besides, four years ago you wouldn't have come and said thank you."

Nathan supposed that was true. 

He really wished he knew what else to say in the awkward silence that followed. For a moment, he considered just turning on his heel and making a run for it, but that would have possibly been even more embarrassing. Especially as he wasn't sure anymore where he was in relation to the door. Turning around could have meant walking into something.

A few years ago, he would have entertained the thought of punching Warren.

In any case, he found to his surprise that a part of him wouldn’t mind staying for a bit. Only his empty flat was waiting for him and assignments he wasn’t feeling to keen about starting.

Fortunately, Warren broke the silence and seemed to have read his thoughts again. That seemed to be something he was good for.

"I have a brand new movie on my flash drive if you want to see it and aren't busy, totally almost legal," Warren piped up. The grin on his face was positively shit-eating. And infectious, Nathan realized when the corners of his own lips tugged upwards briefly, not fully forming his mouth into a smile.

"What kind of movie?" Nathan asked. He wasn't dying to stay here, but it was a fact that he wasn't busy, he told himself. Plus the words of his therapist still replayed in his mind, about him trying to make friends, that it would be good for him to have social contacts that weren't only professionals or his family.

"A horror slasher movie," Warren said with glee in his voice and Nathan found himself cracking a smile after all. His collection at home was massive, one of the only things he had taken with him once he had moved out from under his father's thumb. After his sentence, Blackwell Academy had given his parents everything that had been in his room, his collection of movies among them. 

"Sounds good," Nathan said, shrugging. He looked around Warren's room again while the other turned on his laptop. It wasn't a bad room, not the way Nathan would have set it up. Movie posters were hung up on the walls and it held the usual furniture, desk, chair, couch, a bed. Nothing special. The mattress moved when Warren flopped down beside him on the bed and then their shoulders brushed when Nathan scooted up against the wall. 

Nathan's breath caught in his throat. He hadn't been physically close to anyone in ages, beside one or two of his fellow crazies while he had been in the mental institution. It felt weird, overwhelming, as if his skin was too tight for his body.

Warren gave him an apologetic glance as Nathan inched away a little so there was a little more space between them, but he didn't comment. Nathan could have _kissed_ him for that.

Wait.

He shook off the thought, cheeks burning when he noticed that he had done so literally, but Warren didn’t seem to have seen, much to his relief.

Watching the movie turned out to be awkward. It was a good movie, right up Nathan's alley and he could have enjoyed it more if he hadn't been so _aware_ of Warren beside him, a person from his past who seemed to have no qualms with being close to him despite the blood on his hands. Hell, Nathan couldn't even remember Warren beyond "certified nerd that had been way below the attention of the Vortex club". And he looked good, attractive with how the light fell in through the window and put highlights into his hair. For the first time in _months_ Nathan itched for a camera. 

Damn it. He even _had_ his camera in his backpack. It was one of the other things his therapist had suggested beside drawing, because at heart Nathan _liked it_ , but it kept reminding him of Jefferson and everything to do with it. Nathan was now even using a regular color camera. Somewhere in his parent's attic his old monochrome was gathering dust. He should have just sold it but even touching it had been too much. 

"Everything alright?" Warren asked suddenly. "Do you need anything?" A worried look was on his face, completely misplaced.

"Yeah-" Nathan hesitated before deciding to simply go for it, like he would have done in the past. "Can I take a photo of you?"

Surprise flashed over Warren before he grinned. "Sure. Any special pose?" He struck one, startling a laugh out of Nathan. 

"No, nerd, just- just do what you did before."

"But I only watched the movie," Warren pointed out, a pout on his lips.

Nathan swallowed down the anger and counted to three in his head while Warren's expression turned worried again. "Just watch the goddamn movie again, nerd," Nathan said heatedly. "Sorry," he apologized a beat later. Nice, he was trying to be _nice_. He had never had this problem with Victoria. Yeah, long gone, don't think about it Nate, he reminded himself.

"Alright, going back to watching it is, got it," Warren said easily and turned back to face the screen. Nathan was itching to turn his head a little to the side again. It wasn't quite right, not as it had been before. The impression was lost, but he got to his feet anyway. He had told Warren he was going to take his photo and it would be _weird_ to back out again.

"What are you studying anyway?" Warren asked without looking at him.

"Art. You?" Nathan answered while digging through his backpack for his camera, barely used lately. 

"Science," Warren said, "physics to be exact."

"You're exactly the type for it," Nathan told him without any malice and got to his feet, checked the settings.

"I would have thought you would study photography," Warren admitted and Nathan let out a non-committed noise in answer. Hard to explain that he just couldn't bear the thought anymore. When he turned back to Warren, he had slouched back against the wall, balancing the laptop on his knees. The sun had wandered a little and the impression was back, a moment of almost tranquility. Nathan's heart jumped in his chest.

Warren didn't move when Nathan knelt on the far side of the bed, but his eyes flickered to him momentarily. The spontaneity was lost and Nathan wished he had taken the picture unawares. He felt sick at the thought and self-conscious while he made the picture, followed it up with another from a different angle. And another. 

Warren fortunately didn't comment on it. 

 

Nathan scrolled through the pictures on his laptop, sitting up in bed, back at his flat. After coming home from Warren’s and their spontaneous movie afternoon, Nathan had downloaded them from his camera. It was a surprising amount, of Warren, looking relaxed on his bed. He’d been tensed. It hadn’t been what Nathan wanted, but he couldn’t very well have told him which way to turn, to move. In split moments he had wanted to reach out, turn his head, move his hand this way, pose it differently.

And then on the way home he had shot more pictures, someone’s beat up mailbox. Some random dog that Nathan had flinched away from a moment after taking the photo because it had wanted to become too friendly.

It was as if an itch had been re-awakened inside of Nathan. He hadn’t been in a mood to photograph in ages, despite carrying the camera around. Idly, Nathan created a new folder and began sorting the pictures into the ones he felt like editing, improving them the way Jefferson had shown him and the ones he would delete. At the thought his stomach rolled, but not as badly. Today felt like a good day for once. 

Nathan looked up thoughtfully and his eyes landed on one of the Shibari posters on his wall. It was the obvious step up from a shoelace. Even before that coping method his thoughts had strayed to it, to do more than buy posters. Decision on the brink of making, Nathan’s gaze wandered to his wardrobe. 

He had _tried_ things, if not with another person. Even back in Blackwell he had had a picture like that gracing the wall beside his door.

He got to his feet. 

To his lack of surprise, his hands were trembling. They always did when he was nervous, no matter how much he tried to suppress it. He clenched them into fists and only unclenched them when he opened the wardrobe. Behind his clothes, at the bottom, he pulled out a box. From inside he produced a length of rope. 

By the time he made it back to the bed, his heart was beating a staccato rhythm against his ribcage. He sank down on the bed, letting the rope trail through his fingers. It was as thick as one of his fingers and soft enough that it was comfortable unless you tied it too tightly. 

It had been expensive.

Nathan laid back and bent one of his legs at the knee, pressing the sole of his foot flat against the bed. He would have preferred to tied up his hands, but he couldn’t do so by himself. For that he needed outside assistance and the thought alone made him flush and his belly clench not quite uncomfortably, but it was one thing to fantasize, a whole other to invite someone. Too real. It would make it too real by far. 

The rope, when he tied one end around his ankle, felt almost soft. He closed his eyes, only briefly, before leading the rope around his thigh, immobilizing his leg and making it impossible to stretch. By memory, he tied the knots, making a pattern against his skin.

When he was done, he looked up and to the side where his mirror hung on the wall, reaching from floor to ceiling. He couldn’t properly make out his face from this angle, which was just as well; he knew who it was anyway.

The rope looked dark against his skin, and _pretty_. Nathan swallowed and picked up the camera. From this angle the camera was hidden from view as well. Then he let his tied leg fall to the side, snapped another few pictures from up close.

Mister Jefferson had always used duct tape. To Nathan, the rope looked better, _fancier_. He wondered what Warren would chose, he idly wondered. 

The thought alone was enough to freak him out. 

 

Nathan's phone buzzed, startling him out of the doze he had fallen into. Another day, another episode. He'd woken up feeling like shit and then some asshole had bumped into him in the hall, on the way to his next class, spreading loose pages from Nathan's notebook all over the space. His phone buzzed again as Nathan pressed his face into his pillow, letting out a quiet whimper. He tugged at his hands, feeling the string, the shoelace, and wrapping it tighter around his wrist before loosening it again, but leaving it tight enough to immobilize.

His art had been out for all to see. All the weird and disturbing crap. Some of the pages had only been loose because he had torn out the pages, ready to throw them away and hadn't in the end. Weirder still that he was studying art at all. Someday he would have to show his stuff to more people than only his professors, but not in a hallway. Everyone had been staring and he felt like they had _known_. Everything. All his ghosts.

His phone buzzed a third time, fourth, fifth, sixth until Nathan grunted and debated with himself whether or not he should just throw his phone against the wall. It was pure dumb luck that it was turned on anyway. 

In the end he read the text.

'Hey, got a new movie. Wanna come over?' the first text read and Nathan wrinkled his forehead, it took a moment for him to remember who the hell 'nerd' was supposed to be. He had assumed that Warren was going to forget about him as soon as he was out the door.

'Hey, Nathan, this is your number right?' the second text read. 'I know this is your number because you wrote me once' 

'So this is another horror movie and you should love it'

'Alright I lied and it's a really old movie. _Night Breed_ , ever heard of it? Came out before either of us was born so it's practically new.'

'Nathan Prescott don't tell me you're not a man who can appreciate a few classics'

To his surprise Nathan found a smile on his face. He shook his head in exasperation. 

'I'll come over' Nathan shot back and untangled the string. Dragging himself to his feet took an eternity but once he was upright and out in his living room it was easier, less like he would simply crumble in on himself if he stood still too long. He opted out on changing his clothes. Warren would have to take him as he was, reek and all. Nathan only threw on his red jacket against the chill. 

 

"You look like shit, everything alright?" Warren greeted him when he opened his door for Nathan. The hug that followed _should_ have made Nathan flinch away and he _did_ jerk like he had been stung, but when Warren made to move away, he held on if only briefly, awkwardly bumping his cheek against Warren’s chin and surprising even himself. It was so casual, as if Nathan was an old friend, someone pleasant to hang out with.

His old friends had only stuck around because of the drugs and money he could provide. 

"Sorry," Nathan muttered when he pulled away as if he’d been burned, face red, "your manly charm was too much for me to resist." 

Christ, what was wrong with him. And with Warren. 

Warren laughed quietly and rubbed the back of his head, flushing, too. "Finally it was good for something." Nathan strode past him into his room, trying to play over his embarrassment, and wished he was alone so he could face palm, or wrap the string around his wrists again so he _stopped_ himself from doing anything stupid. He wasn't that touch-starved that he was going to cling to just anyone, least of all someone he barely knew. 

Right? 

Right. 

"So where is the classic movie?" Nathan asked, voice more steady than he felt. 

Warren let out a chuckle. "It's on my laptop."

"All legal?" Nathan mocked and tried to ignore how infective Warren's laugh was. He frowned at him. For a moment he wondered if he couldn’t just pull out the string after all; Warren had seen him already. Nathan discarded the thought. 

"All legal this time," Warren promised and they sat down again on his bed, shoulders brushing. This time Nathan only pulled away so there was an inch between them, just enough so they weren't pressed up against each other anymore. 

 

 _Jefferson was teaching him._ Logically, Nathan knew he was locked up somewhere in prison. So, he decided, this had to be a dream. Unfortunately this did nothing to ease the uneasiness twisting his stomach into knots. It had been years since he’d last been in the man’s presence.

He was in Jefferson’s photography class even though he had never attended it. All their lessons had been private, from how to set up a scene to how to suck a cock. Nathan shuddered. Dreams were build on fears and memories and Nathan had plenty of either. 

“Hey, don’t worry,” Warren said beside him, inexplicably in the class as well. Up ahead, Victoria sat in the first row, not looking back at him, her starry eyes on Jefferson in the front of the class. Nathan wanted to warn her, but no words were coming out. Once, when Jefferson had idly told him who he would like to photograph he had mentioned Victoria. Nathan had begged him to leave her alone. 

The faces of the people around him were blurry, except for his parents in the back, looking parts indifferent and parts angry. Chloe sat beside them with a hole in her belly, bleeding everywhere and beside her Rachel with her eyes closed, looking like she was sleeping.

From the door the stranger from the club was approaching him, but not coming closer, as if he was walking on the spot, fading with time.

Nathan dragged his gaze away, back to Warren, the only friendly face in the room. He was smiling and Nathan wanted to scream at him to leave, to save himself. Then Warren, who up until this point had his hands underneath the desk, put them up on top of the shiny surface, revealing the duct tape wrapped around them. 

Nathan’s mouth opened in a shout and the scene changed as if he’d never been in the classroom at all. He had always been in the Dark Room, lying on his back on the floor, hands and feet tied with Jefferson standing over him, looking focused on his work.

Fear choked Nathan. He blinked, tearing up and when he opened his eyes again he was in his own bedroom, still bound but the duct tape had been replaced with ropes, tied into beautiful patterns against his skin. 

Warren laid beside him, watching him. Rachel stood in a corner, Kate at her side and Chloe on the other, almost becoming one with the background. 

 

"Can I see your art?" Warren asked him. It was another evening a few days later, another old movie. It was growing into something like a habit. An enjoyable one unlike the nightmares that kept waking Nathan, a confusing jumble of scenes and emotions and pictures that made less and less sense the more he thought about them. 

Nathan snapped his sketchbook shut that he'd been doodling in, self-conscious. Logically he knew Warren wasn't going to judge. He was into the same weird shit as Nathan, as the last few days had shown. Still. Old habits were hard to break. Nathan raised and lowered his shoulders and put his sketchbook back into his backpack.

"I don't like showing my stuff to amateurs," he finally said and hoped the tilt of his mouth was enough to convey that he wasn't serious. 

"You wound me." Warren played along. "I'll just have to become as good as you to see it then."

"You wish," Nathan said and bumped their shoulders together, thoughtlessly. Then he scooted away a little again, afraid of the soft look in Warren's eyes. What scared him the most was that he almost didn’t mind it.

Warren cleared his throat and turned his face back to the laptop. 

"Hey Prescott, there's a drive in cinema a few miles out of town _and_ a horror night soon," Warren said, too casually. The question was obvious, if unspoken. 

Nathan felt himself smile. "Aren't you taking your retro fetish a little too far?"

"Shut up, as if you didn't like it," Warren said with a grin, "are you coming with me or not?"

Nathan made a show of thinking about it. "I'll see if I can make space in my busy schedule," he said, "how does the weekend sound?"

"Sounds good to me," Warren said. Nathan looked away from the expression on his face, but he was still smiling.

 

The drive out was comfortable. Music was on in the radio. Warren didn't try to make small talk for once and Nathan was so nervous, he started telling Warren about some of his teachers, complaining about them more like until they reached their destination.

A drive-in cinema. Nathan had never been to one. And they didn’t even have to wait at the ticket booth, simply flashing the tickets, which Warren had bought beforehand, to a employee who waved them through. 

_Before_ , Nathan would have bought the tickets for all his friends. He always did, but not this time. 

Back at the dorm he'd pressed a bill into Warren's hand only to find it in his backpack later, when he had gotten out his bottle to take a sip, right before they had gone to Warren's car. 

"What's the movie called again?" Nathan asked when they had parked in a suitable place. Other vehicles surrounded them. If he had to be honest, the place already looked like a set-up for a horror movie. One where they were the protagonists. He grinned. 

"Drive-In Massacre," Warren said, holding up their tickets, "which is so damn fitting I hope they'll try to prank us all."

Nathan could only agree. 

Warren pulled his seat back a little and Nathan followed suit so they had more space. It wasn't a good movie, trashy and cheaply done, but Nathan enjoyed it nonetheless, more so when Warren started cracking jokes. Nathan glanced around them into the other cars as much as the low light allowed. Predictably, some people had taken the chance to make out with their dates or significant others and Nathan turned back to Warren, looked at the side of his face instead. There was a kind of sparkle in his eyes when he laughed. 

When he turned towards Nathan most of his face was cast in shadows but his smile was bright. 

"You ok? Not too scary for you?" Warren teased, a hint of real worry hidden among his words, which made Nathan scoff. 

He shook himself out of his stupor. "Please, as if that could scare me. _Targets_ was better," he said. 

For some reason that made Warren put his arm around him, just for a moment, to pull him in close into a careful sort of half-hug and Nathan's heart traitorously skipped a beat before he wormed out of his grip. "Then we'll have to re-watch that next, just so we can better forget this one," Warren promised him. 

Nathan weakly grinned and Warren let go of him, flush on his face noticeable even in the darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if this chapter feels like things are progressing too fast. u_u

Seeing Warren stand in the middle of his living room was jarring. 

There was, objectively speaking, nothing to complain about in Nathan's flat, at least as far as Nathan was concerned. It was on the smaller side, sure, but not tiny. But then everything was small when compared to his father's mansion. And Warren had been _here_ already, this wasn’t any kind of first time. But Nathan couldn’t stop fidgeting. He stuffed his hands into his pockets before Warren could notice.

Right now he was looking at the Shibari pictures, artfully framed and hung on the wall. It Nathan’s chest feel tight and tighter still when Warren smiled at him.

“I like these.”

Of course the nerd liked erotic photography of tied up people, which begged the question what that made Nathan. 

Very classy probably.

He had chosen the flat himself and paid for it with the money his parents had poured into his bank account while Nathan had been locked up. There was no use for money in a mental institution. Nathan had _tried_ using it. During a breakdown he had tried bribing his wards and it hadn't worked. So the money had accumulated over time, leaving him a hefty sum. 

And one of the first things he had done with it, after getting out, was to open a bank account under his own name and move the money there. With his father, you could never be too careful. 

In theory, he could have gotten a bigger apartment, or a house, but he hadn't. He had chosen this himself, right smack in the middle of a big city. So far his parents hadn't visited yet and Nathan didn’t want them too. They could go to hell.

Better for him if they stayed away. 

“I love your collection,” Warren piped up, taking a closer look at Nathan's movies stored in shelves along one wall. When he had last been here, he must have had the time to look around. The thought did nothing to ease Nathan’s nerves and even less so when his mind helpfully pointed out what else had happened then.

Nathan fidgeted and put a hand into his pocket, fingers curling around the string. Belatedly he wished he was alone so he could do what he had to to calm down again beyond counting to ten in his head. Even though Warren had already seen it.

Seeing didn’t mean approving, though, or that he would help him out.

"You have a really nice flat," Warren said with a smile and turned to face him. "I love the projector. Do you watch movies with it? You better. I wanted to ask you last time, but you-- well you were there and know what happened."

Nathan smiled. It felt foreign on his face, stiff. Out of place considering how his heart was doing somersaults. "Yeah, of course. Anytime I have time." He winced at the phrasing, but Warren only grinned. 

"Do you want something to drink?" Nathan asked, slipping into the role of the host the way his parents had taught him. At least one thing, beside the money and perceived power, they had been good for. 

"Yeah, sure," Warren said, smiling always smiling at Nathan which did all sorts of things to him, including but not limited to making him anxious. 

Nathan headed to his kitchen and took a right turn to the bathroom, locking the door behind him and tying the string around his wrists again as he slid down the wood. The back of his head rested against the door and he breathed, pressed his bound hands between his thighs for good measure and counted to ten. 

Then he counted to ten again. 

"Everything alright?" Warren asked him when Nathan returned with a glass for either of them and they sat comfortably on the couch.

Tonight they wanted to marathon the Friday the 13th movies, but Nathan found his attention wandering again to the view of the light playing over Warren's face. They had pulled the blinds on the windows, leaving them in almost complete darkness except for the illumination of the projector and the movie cast on the wall. 

Nathan only realized he was fidgeting, pressed shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh with Warren, when Warren moved his hand and laid it on Nathan's knee, squeezing once in what Nathan supposed was meant in reassurance. Instead it made Nathan's heart give a startled jump. 

"Is this alright?" Warren asked, light tone belying the nervousness Nathan could hear in his voice. 

"It's fine," Nathan said curtly, glaring more because of his own reaction than anything else. Why did he have to be so damn _difficult_?

"You don't really look like you're fine," Warren said and moved to take his hand away. Nathan stopped him, laying his own hand over Warren and keeping it pressed against his knee. Maybe it was only his imagination that Warren winced at the vice-like grip, but eventually the fidgeting faded. They turned back to watching the movie and Warren sat more comfortably, thumb rubbing circles into the fabric of Nathan's pants. Nathan _wanted_ in that moment in a way he hadn't for years. In his defense, he had been pretty damn busy, mind cluttered up with the past. 

"This was nice," Warren commented, stretching once the movie was over. "I should probably head back to my dorm."

Nathan bit back the offer that was on the tip of his tongue, of him staying the night and nodded. _Before_ , he would have done it, casually, _easily_. 

At the door they hugged and Nathan found himself holding on a little longer than was strictly necessary. A few years ago he would have simply kissed Warren, too, tried his luck, but so much had changed he pulled back instead, looking down at his feet while Warren rubbed the back of his head. 

"It was nice hanging with you, Nathan," Warren said awkwardly and Nathan mentally kicked himself after he was gone for not asking him to stay after all. 

 

"Nathan, how are you feeling?" His therapist asked him. 

"Just, a little more antsy I suppose," Nathan said quietly. "Me and Warren spend a lot of time together."

"Do you like meeting him? How does it make you feel?" Her voice was casual, calming and gentle.

Nathan fidgeted and pulled out the string to play. Some sessions went better than others. 

"I don't know," he answered honestly, "I enjoy spending time with him."

"Would you consider him a friend?"

"I don't know," Nathan said again. Anger sparked low in his belly at the question. That was the problem wasn't it? Warren seemed to like spending time with him easy enough, but Nathan couldn't be sure. There was a small piece of him nagging that it was only because of his money. The rational part of him said he hadn't even paid anything for Warren yet. If anything, Warren had invited _him_ to anything they had done outside his dorm room yet. He had even paid for take-out in Nathan's apartment. It was confusing, despite the fact that Nathan had an idea of where this was headed. 

He just didn't think he was going to be that lucky.

His therapist, thankfully, changed the subject and Nathan left thoughtful and tired. 

For a moment he stared on his phone. They had talked about Victoria, again, too. It was the only number beside Hayden's Nathan had still in his phone from _Before_ , kept even after he had changed his phone. 

Nathan took a deep breath and typed out a message, answering Warren's texts too while he was at it. 

Then he went to bed. 

 

Nathan heard someone giggle and rolled his eyes, staring in front of him at his sketchbook, taking down the form of the nude model in front of him. It was a guy and as far as Nathan was concerned nothing special, but some of the people in his class were younger than him and most likely hadn't seen anyone naked at this point. 

Nathan used to feel uncomfortably undressing in front of Jefferson, at least at the beginning. Later he had been so eager... Jefferson had always made him feel special and now Nathan knew it was only so he could manipulate him better, use him to further his artistic vision. Slightly, Nathan moved his head from side to side, a small jerk almost as if to physically shake of the memory. He went back to concentrating on the paper in front of him. Art focused him, paper didn't judge. 

In his pocket his phone vibrated but Nathan ignored it. Warren could wait until later. 

The notebook he had filled while in the mental institution had been what got him into college and Nathan was left to wonder if his teachers _knew_ where he had drawn all that. Or maybe his father had paid the college to accept him, but he hadn't been too happy to hear his son wanted to become some fucked up artist. 

Nathan just hoped he wasn't going to fuck it up. He had to be better than in Blackwell Academy, which hopefully wasn't going to be too hard. So far there was no one he wanted to shoot for example. He hid his grimace by leaning further towards the paper in front of him, let them think it had to do with the guy's dick. In his pocket his phone buzzed again. Only when his class was over and the model was getting dressed did Nathan pull his phone out of his pocket, grinning when he read Warren's messages.

A girl chose that moment to nudge him. "Your boyfriend?" She had a nice enough smile and with the green hair she reminded him a little of Chloe. His chest hurt. Nathan hunched his shoulders. 

"Just a friend," he said curtly. 

The girl's face fell a little. Nathan had seen her around. She was a classmate, a little younger than him. "Sorry, I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, but," she gestured to a group of people waiting by the door. Nathan was going to assume they were her friends. "I wanted to ask if you wanted to eat with us, since we're all new here." On second thought she reminded him more of Rachel than of Chloe. Rachel had always tried to be friendly to complete strangers, too. 

"Sure," Nathan said slowly.

 

Nathan was dreaming again. He could tell, because he was in his childhood bedroom with Warren beside him. If his parents were dead, he may have taken him to see the mansion, the property surrounding it. The gardens and the build cinema no one ever used unless Nathan invited the Vortex club over. 

They were lying on his bed, which was still on the small side. His feet hung over the end. It was the one he had had when he was a kid. 

Warren’s face was close to his. His hand was like a brand on Nathan’s waist, palm on his skin where his shirt had ridden up. It was warm. Somewhere his jacket lay and Nathan felt no need to look for it, just noticing it’s absence. 

They’d never been this close. Warren hugged him and bumped their shoulders together but never for long. Nathan didn’t _want_ him to, except for the fact that he did. 

The light from the window was soft. Nathan, for the first time in forever, felt truly calm. That was probably why he leaned forward and slanted his lips over Warren’s, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

At least he told himself that.

 

Warren hugged Nathan when he came into his room, right after the door had fallen shut behind him. 

"Do we have time for this?" Nathan asked when Warren _kept on hugging him_. It felt nice, no doubt about it. His words made Warren pull away and he rubbed the back of his neck in a gesture that Nathan found endearing despite himself. 

"Maybe I'm just happy to see you," Warren said with a pout, with a goddamn _pout_. 

"Just let us go," Nathan said, pulling away, face warring between a glare and a smile. 

"I-yeah," Warren stuttered and grabbed his jacket. "Ready to go?" His smile was infectious as always. 

 

"You know, I could have paid for both of that," Nathan pointed out when Warren happily handed him his ticket and popcorn after he had excused himself to the bathroom. 

"Relax," Warren told him, "I wanted to treat you to something nice. Did no one ever pay anything for you?" _Yes, you did the last dozen times,_ Nathan wanted to return.

"Yeah, my parents did. They're financing my whole life if you must know," Nathan answered instead, thoroughly exasperated. He wasn't a cheap-skate and he had more than proven it during their school time.

Warren shook his head. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

Nathan shut up. There was nothing he could say to that. The only one who had bought him stuff had been Victoria. They turned back to the screen when the movie started and after a while Warren purposefully casual laid his arm around Nathan's shoulder, making him grin quietly to himself. 

Hayden had never been shy and Jefferson... Jefferson had just been different in every regard. He had played Nathan like a flute. Warren in contrast was _nervous_ , trying not to show it. So Nathan took pity on him, and himself, and leaned over and kissed him the way he had dreamed when Warren turned his head towards him to make a joke. The first clash of their mouths was awkward, but Nathan reached out and tilted Warren's chin the way he needed to. Then their lips slotted together and yeah, this was better, so much better. Nathan couldn't remember the last time he had made out with anyone just for the heck of it. In a drive-in cinema no less.

He let his hand trail down over Warren's chest and was met with hardness when he palmed him through his pants.

Warren let out a moan against his mouth. 

"Feels good?" Nathan asked slyly. This was what he knew. He could do this, make Warren feel good. 

"Yeah," Warren groaned, hips bucking into Nathan's palm. "Is this all just because I bought you something?"

Nathan laughed quietly and told him to shut up, kissing him again so he would stay quiet. Undoubtedly what they were doing was very visible from outside. The realization was the only reason why Nathan didn't lean down to take Warren into his mouth. He settled with sliding his hand into his pants instead, savoring the noises Warren made. 

Warren's hands roamed over Nathan in turn and he let out an answering moan when Warren's fingers curled around his own cock. It was all so much easier than Nathan had imagined.

The movie was forgotten as they teased each other higher. 

"Well--" Warren said, still flushed even in the dark, after. 

"Was it good for you, too?" Nathan drawled and laughed when Warren ruffled his hair. 

"No, it was awful, obviously." They tucked each other back into their pants again. The credits were rolling. 

 

The encounter replayed in Nathan's mind that same evening as he sat out on his balcony, sketchbook illuminated by the light over his shoulder. He had placed his living room lamp in such a way that he could still sketch outside, even if the mosquitoes were bothering him a little. It was nice. His lips felt kiss-swollen still. Warren had given it his best. No matter what he tried, the smile refused to leave Nathan's lips. The page in front of him was filling up with Warren.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he was more than ready to tell Warren off for contacting him again so soon after they had seen each other. Even though he liked it. He pulled out his phone and nearly dropped it when he saw it hadn't been Warren had all who had replied to him after all. 

'Haven't heard from you in a while. Let's hang soon. I missed you' Victoria. Despite himself Nathan let out a snort. Missed him, right. She hadn't made a move to contact him while he had been confined. One thing was true, though, he had been the one to miss her. She had been his best friend, his only confident in Blackwell. _And Jefferson had meant to hurt her, too._

Nathan hesitated. Then he quickly typed out a message before he could change his mind. 

 

The teacher came over to him, while Nathan was sitting in his class. If there was something Nathan hated, and there was a lot of it, it was to have someone watch him draw. He couldn't help the way he hunched a little over his sketchbook, trying to hide what he was doing, even though his teacher had already seen his work. All he drew had a dark edge to it. 

"I wanted to talk to you about the work you handed in for your assignment," the teacher said, respectfully moving around him so he wasn't as blatantly looking at Nathan's sketchbook anymore.

Nathan tensed, if possible even more so. In Blackwell, none on the teachers had dared call him out after a while, but his father’s protection didn’t reach _this_ far.

"Yeah, what about it?" It came out more snappy than he had meant it to and he readied himself to be reprimanded for it.

Instead the teacher smiled. "It was very good. Very dark, but unique. You have a very distinct style, Nathan. You shouldn't hide so much. Keep up your good work, but don't forget to experiment."

"Yeah, I will. Thank you." Nathan turned his red head back down to his sketchbook as his teacher left. Things really were looking up. Holy fuck. Quickly he shot a message to Warren. 

Hopefully his lucky streak was going to last. If he had been more religious he would have started praying. 

And Nathan couldn't get Warren's mouth out of his mind, the way it had felt against his. Later that day they were going to meet up at Nathan's place and he had a feeling he was going to get lucky. For some reason the thought made him nervous. He wasn't inexperienced by any definition of the word. 

When he got out of class Warren was waiting by his car and gave him a hug and kiss which were awkward. Nathan... didn't like being touched in public. He had already disliked it back in Blackwell.

"Sorry." Warren sounded apologetic. 

"It's fine," Nathan returned a little sourly and they got into his car, stopping for take-out on the way while they chatted about their day.

By the time they made it back to his apartment his belly had managed to tie itself up in knots. He wasn't used to _waiting_. Sex had always been spontaneous, he had never had to wait for it except for the times he met Jefferson and anticipated... his belly had always felt like lead then, too.

But Warren wasn't Jefferson. They were nothing alike. 

"What's wrong?" Warren asked half-way through the movie because Nathan had given himself away by being unable to _stop fidgeting_. 

"Nothing," Nathan answered nonchalantly. 

Warren gave him a Look which spelled out 'bullshit'. "Yeah, I can tell. You're totally calm."

Nathan's fingers curled around the string in his pocket. "I am. I'm just-- nervous." He sighed, hating that that had been something that he had to admit to. There wasn't any need to be nervous at all. 

Warren's face was serious. "We don't have to do anything you don't want," he said, "especially if it's your first time--"

A laugh exploded out of Nathan. "It's far away from any kind of first time."

Warren's expression fell a little. "Well it's mine."

"What?" burst out of Nathan’s mouth before he could stop himself. 

"I mean, with a guy," Warren hurried to add, ears pink and Nathan realized that he had probably come across like an asshole. “You know,” Warren went on, babbling, “movies always make hooking up look so easy.”

"There is nothing wrong with that-" he said at the same time that Warren said "Well I kissed a few guys of course-"

They both shut up, grinning at each other. 

"We don't have to do anything you don't want either," Nathan mumbled, even if it was a shame. Now he really only wanted Warren naked. 

"Thanks," Warren deadpanned. For a moment they looked at one another, before moving at once. Their lips slanted together and Nathan curled his fingers into Warren's shirt, pulling him closer or trying to despite the fact they were already pressed chest to chest. It felt better, so much better than the awkward kiss in the parking lot. And no one was watching them either. The movie kept playing while Nathan moved, straddling Warren's lap and tipping his head back against the couch cushion, plundering his mouth and feeling more than hearing him moan as Nathan palmed him through his pants. Warren's palms slid up his back, up underneath the fabric, then around his waist and over his chest, making his nipples pebble when thumbs brushed over them, followed by the air. 

At Warren's insistence Nathan raised his arms so Warren could pull his shirt off. A moment later Warren's shirt followed and Nathan was back on him, kissing him until he was breathless.

"Can we- do you want to move this to the bedroom?" Warren panted when Nathan let him up for air. Teasingly, Nathan rocked down against him. 

"Do you want us to?"

"I mean, I'm fine with whatever," Warren babbled, "like do who is doing who. I mean where is which dick goin-" 

Nathan shut him up with another kiss, letting his tongue play against Warren's. He wasn’t in a mood to _talk_.

"You'll do me," he decided, rocking down onto Warren's cock once more and grinning when Warren moaned. 

"You're evil," Warren gasped, hands clutching Nathan's ass through his pants and these pants, Nathan decided, needed to go. “And fucking beautiful.”  
Nathan’s heart seized at the words, which were so carelessly uttered.

Then Warren let out a noise of complain when Nathan stood, reaching for him. Nathan himself was quite out of breath as well, running hot. Heat was pooling at the base of his spine, curling in his belly as he let his hands drop to his belt and stripped out of the offending garment. Then he pulled Warren to his feet, too, to rid him off the rest of his clothes.  
They sank back onto the couch. Warren kissed the side of his ribcage when Nathan leaned over to the little drawer beside his couch to pull out lube and a condom. 

"Really, that's where you stash your stuff?" Warren asked, grinning.

Nathan felt his ears burning. "I 'stash my stuff in my bedside drawer, too," he said and watched Warren's mouth drop open. "It's a perk of having your own place."

"I need my own place then."

Nathan didn't tell him about the _other_ stuff the little drawer held, hidden by a few magazines and other things in Nathan's wardrobe. Nathan had brought his little collection back from his parents, too, and he hoped by god they didn't know about any of it. 

When Nathan moved to pour lube over his own fingers, Warren took the tube from his unresisting hands. "Can I?" The look was hopeful and Nathan shrugged before getting off of him and on his back on the couch. Warren crawled between his legs and just for a moment Nathan ran cold before it faded. Jefferson wasn't as gangly as Warren, never showing nervousness of any kind. He'd always been almost clinical about touching Nathan. And Nathan had gobbled it up like something precious, as if anything Mark Jefferson did had something to do with love.

"Hey, you okay?" Warren asked, palms stroked his thighs as he settled between them,"Do you want me to stop?" God he looked like a puppy, all wide-eyed eagerness.

Nathan swallowed and rubbed up into Warren, distracting him. "Go on. You wanted to do it so do it." He watched as Warren dripped lube over his fingers, getting some onto his own thigh and cursing. The toes of Nathan's left leg curled against his carpet as Warren put his hand on his inner thigh, pushing slightly and spreading Nathan open wider as he trailed the tips of his other in between his legs.

Nathan shuddered, not unpleasantly, when his fingers rubbed over his hole, letting out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. 

"Are you okay?" Warren asked and Nathan let out another breath, this time in frustration. 

"Would you stop asking?" he demanded, "I'll tell you if it's too much."

Warren tilted his head from side to side. "You know, Prescott, I really doubt that." But nonetheless he went back to what he'd been doing, circling Nathan's hole with the tips of his fingers until Nathan was pushing into the motion, breathing hard. Then Warren leaned forward, roaming mouth and free hand over Nathan's chest and Nathan thought the part about not having experience had to be a lie, because Warren was definitely pushing the right buttons to get Nathan riled up. 

"Graham, you're no virgin," Nathan gasped when Warren, _finally_ pressed a finger into him. He needn't have been so careful either. For a time his meds had fucked up his libido, but now that Nathan was out and on better stuff he touched himself again. All over. 

Warren seemed to notice, because once he had buried his finger inside of Nathan, he added another one, drawing a moan out of Nathan and making his thighs flex around the width of Warren's shoulders. 

"I told you, I had sex, just not with a guy." His face was red. "And Stella did teach me a thing or two."

"Well I'm sure as fuck not going to send her a thank you card," Nathan pointed out and was rewarded with Warren scissoring his fingers apart, a little too gently for Nathan's liking, but still good. Warren had thick fingers, which Nathan appreciated. 

Nathan's hands fell to his cock, lying neglected against his belly while Warren only paid attention to his ass and chest. 

"Get on with it," he hissed, eying Warren's cock before letting go of his own in favor of picking up a condom, ripping the packaging and rolling it over Warren, making him let out a loud noise.

Warren seemed at a loss of words, because he didn't say anything, only pressing them together chest to groin to kiss Nathan again. Their tongues slid together while Nathan rocked up against the planes of Warren's belly and Warren guided in his cock. 

Nathan moaned at the stretch as Warren entered him. He hooked his legs up higher on Warren's shoulders, feeling him slide deeper. 

"Fuck, you feel amazing," Warren groaned and barely let Nathan time to adjust before he pulled out and thrust back in. 

Nathan was pressed back into the couch, gasping out his appreciation. The friction was just on the right side of too dry. He would have told Warren to fuck him harder, but Warren hardly needed the encouragement. He cursed when Warren angled, trying out what worked and finally brushed over Nathan's prostate. And then he did his best to brush against it on every thrust, making Nathan cry out and suddenly it was over and Warren, sweat-slick hair sticking to his forehead, was jerking and coming with a red face and a moan. 

"Sorry, sorry," he panted, pressing into Nathan as far as he could go, hiding his expression in Nathan's neck as he slumped. "Fuck," he muttered. 

Nathan let out a breathless laugh. His back was sticking to his couch and while Warren was a nice-feeling weight on top of him he was still hard, pleasure curling up and around his spine and tingling into his limbs but not enough. "Warren, fuck," Nathan cursed and tried pushing Warren off so he could get a hand around his cock, but Warren was faster, pulling away, but not out. 

"Wait- let me--" 

Nathan moaned when Warren's fingers curled around him, jerking him off but a moment later they were gone again, Warren slipping out of him and letting him bereft. "Bastar-- oh--" Warren's mouth wrapped around his cock and his twitching hole was filled as Warren pushed four of his fingers inside, crooking them against Nathan's prostate and suddenly Nathan was coming, too, with a cry. 

Warren swallowed around him and Nathan whimpered. 

"So, was it good for you, too?" Warren asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Nathan groaned, not in pleasure. "Just get me to bed now, nerd," Nathan said before he could change his mind. 

Warren smiled one of his happy smiles. "That means I can stay?"

"Not if you keep asking stupid questions," Nathan grumbled but his heart wasn't in it. He tilted his head up towards Warren when he leaned in for a sweet sweet kiss. Nathan could taste himself on his tongue and trembled, too spend to react further. 

On the screen the movie was scrolling through the credits. 

Nathan let himself be pulled to his feet, wrapping his arms around Warren's shoulders and felt Warren's arms around his waist as they kissed and kissed and kissed. If they kept this up, Nathan thought, he'd be good to go again. But before he could reach that point they pulled apart, chased each other to the bathroom. 

Curling up with someone in bed was... weird, later on. Nice, too, but unfamiliar. In the mental institution he had only slept alone and only sometimes with Victoria or Hayden back in Blackwell, never with Mister Jefferson. 

Nathan closed his eyes as Warren pressed up against his back and slid a thigh between his. Underneath his pillow Nathan held onto the string he had stashed there, just in case.

 

It should have just figured that the good things couldn't last, Nathan thought when he came into his apartment a few days later and instead of solitude found his parents loitering around his living room, looking painfully out of place. 

"What are you doing here?"

His mother looked disappointed at his tone, his father angry, but then again his father had always looked like that when looking at his only son. Angry and disappointed.

"Why didn't you get a bigger place?" his mother asked, badly concealed disapproval in her voice. Compared to their family mansion it was tiny. Every house that wasn't a mansion was small in comparison. That was the point. 

"I like it." Nathan's voice sounded small. His father had that effect on him. He nervously put a hand in his pocket, curling his fingers briefly around the string there, only to pull his hand free to dangle at his side again at his father's disapproving expression. According to his parents he was probably _breathing_ wrong. Why were they even here? Nathan realized he was trembling and forced himself to stop before it could grow bad enough that his father was going to notice, too.

"An old friend at Harvard offered to get you into law school. You could still be a useful member of society and take over the family business." 

So that's what the visit all about. His father was playing his kind role, the one he most preferred to play in person instead of with a letter. Nathan wouldn't have been surprised if his father was doing it, too, because he knew Nathan had a harder time refusing him if they were in the same room. 

"A criminal is hardly going to be good for the company's image." Nathan's voice wavered. He was looking at his feet. Even his father's looks could damage. As always, his mother was a pretty decoration on his father's arm, disengaged and aloof. She could show her motherly side, but only when they were alone and sometimes even then. She was just as much a business woman as his father.

His father made a chopping motion with his hand. "It's not going to matter. In a few years when you're done with law school the people will have forgotten about your little mishap." 

_Mishap._

He had shot a girl and drugged others, had his hand in killing another girl, somewhat of a friend at the time. A simple mishap. Nathan was sure it could have just happened to _anyone_. His mouth twisted into a sour line. Once again his father had his path all planned out. 

Nathan's voice was small and trembling when he spoke, but the words came out anyway. "I like my apartment and my classes." He raised his eyes up to his father's. "I'm not going to drop them."

His father frowned while his mother looked sad. 

"Of course, I cannot force you.” Nathan almost let out a laugh at his father’s words. “But I hope someday you will learn not to be so selfish and a disappointment to the Prescott name."

The ground felt like it was dropping out from under Nathan. 

His father shook his head with a last disapproving look around the apartment, lingering on Nathan's pitiful form no doubt, before he turned on his heel and strode out the way he had come, his mother trailing behind him. 

Nathan didn't look up until after they had been gone a few minutes, shaking all over. With trembling hands he pulled out the string, nervously sliding it over and over between his fingers before wrapping it around his wrists and stumbling over to the couch before his legs could give out from under him. 

He hadn't even given his parents a key to his apartment. 

Ever. 

He nearly dropped his phone, fingering it out of his pocket and punching in a number he knew by heart, of the only person who had always understood when he had problems with his family. 

Victoria picked up on the third ring and Nathan nearly cried in relief.


	4. Chapter 4

"I shouldn't be surprised that your parents are still assholes," Victoria said, still her same put-together-stylish self that she had been three years ago. Her hair was longer, but there was still the same haughty twist around her mouth that only eased when she was with friends. 

"Yeah, they really are. They may have gotten worse after--" Nathan trailed off and Victoria looked away. Awkward silence spread out between them. Victoria cradled the cup of tea in her hand that Nathan had prepared for her before she had arrived, just to have something to do with his hands, put himself together again before she could arrive. 

Over two years apart. A lot of things had changed. 

They had never been this awkward with each other. Self-consciously, Nathan pulled a hand through his hair. He was itching for the string in his pocket. Maybe he just should have bore through this on his own. 

"You need to change your lock, too," Victoria spoke up again, looking angry. "And call your damn landlord. He shouldn't just leave strangers into your apartment."

"They are my parents." Even to Nathan's ears it sounded like a weak excuse and the look Victoria turned on him underlined it. 

"Same thing when it comes to your _family_ ," Victoria said. And got to her feet. "What do you think about going out? Get into a party and take your mind off of this whole thing." 

Nathan's belly clenched uneasily but he nodded anyway. Like the good old times. It was sure to get his mind back on the right track. 

"Good!" Victoria threw him one of her quick smiles. "Where are your clothes? You can't go out like this."

Dolled up they went out an hour later. Nathan didn't have alcohol of _any_ kind in his home, so they grabbed some along the way and Nathan guiltily ignored his phone vibrating as he drank. The music could be heard out on the streets as they neared the club. Victoria _had_ to be a regular, judging by the way the security guard only gave them a cursory glance before waving them in, past the line of waiting people. Nathan heard more than one shout complaining behind them, but then the music grew deafening, sounds and light and music all blurring together over the press of bodies. 

Nathan felt the old thrill of anticipation. The whole night was stretching out in front of him, ripe for the taking. But their first stop was the bar, just like old times, except that this time Nathan paid closer attention to his drink. He felt the buzz of alcohol. Shot after shot after shot and a small part of him was complaining that this was a stupid thing to do. The rest of him just wanted to forget. 

Once thoroughly buzzed, Victoria and Nathan took themselves to the dance floor, shaking it up and at some point Nathan found himself pressed up against a stranger with Victoria behind him. Or maybe the stranger was pressing up against him? Suddenly it hardly mattered, because it wasn't Warren, Nathan thought distantly through the haze of alcohol. It was a _stranger_.

And just like that he was feeling ill.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Victoria screamed into his ear. Meanwhile the stranger was pawing at him, clearly shit-faced and enthusiastic. 

Nathan shook his head and wormed out of the stranger's grip to head towards the wall, hand going to his pocket. A moment later Victoria was by his side and Nathan quickly pulled his hand free again, string tangled around his finger. 

She wrapped her arms around his shoulder. "Are you ok?" 

"No, just kinda feel sick." Nathan hung his head. Great, he was disappointing to another person, but Victoria only took his hand and dragged him outside. She looked apologetic. 

Back at her apartment, Nathan flopped down on her bed, just like old times. 

"Maybe the whole party thing was a bad idea, all things considered," Victoria said carefully, playing with the hem of her expensive cashmere shirt, sounding sorry. 

"Yeah." Nathan wanted to say more, but he didn't have the words. Victoria flopped down beside him without her usual grace. 

"I'm sorry, I fucked it up. We didn't see each other in years and--" she let out a frustrated sigh. "After what you did I didn't think I'd see you again. My parents didn't want me to either."

Nathan turned his head away so she wouldn't see his face, but the weight of her head on his shoulder startled her. Then tears shot into the corners of his eyes when he felt her hand intertwine with his. He blinked them away. 

"I missed you Nate," Victoria said quietly. "I wished I had contacted you sooner, or really at all."

Nathan turned his head away and pressed a careful kiss against her temple. "I should have contacted you sooner, really. I missed you all the time, but I thought you wouldn't want to see me."

"I didn't," she confessed. "Not at first."

They fell silent. A single night wasn't going to fix anything, but Nathan felt, strangely enough, at ease. 

With his free hand he waved towards the photos on the wall. "All yours?"

She disengaged, a smile on her face. "Of course they are, who do you take me for?" She jerked her head haughtily, but the laugh she let out was girl-like. Happy. "Want to see them?"

"I'd love to, gorgeous," Nathan said with a smile.

 

"Sit down, seeing you pace is making me anxious. My room isn't big enough for pacing," Warren said and pulled Nathan down beside him on the couch. Nathan couldn't. He couldn't sit still. His skin felt like there were ants crawling underneath, forcing him to jump back to his feet and pace again. 

"I need to change my fucking lock." 

After he had gotten back from Victoria the next day he had answered Warren's messages and told him everything and now he was here, in Warren's dorm room cause he couldn't bear going home and finding his parents standing in his apartment once again. 

Warren blocked his path when he turned and caught him around the waist. "Call your landlord," he said, face serious. "You're an adult. Your parents can't keep pushing you around like that."

Nathan nodded and with Warren's arms still holding him called his landlord and with clipped sentences explained to him the situation and got his go-ahead for fixing his lock. He did a double-take as he got an apology, too. The man hadn't known that things were bad with his parents. Then he called the security shop, making an appointment for the next day. His parents weren't about to come back right this minute, the logical side of him said. _Whateverthefuck_ , though, the rest of him didn't care. 

"I'll have to go to the restroom," Nathan said and Warren nodded, letting him go with a quick kiss to his cheek before he planted himself back in front of his TV and picked up a controller. When it had become apparent that Nathan wasn't focused enough for movie night (or rather day), Warren had switched to a game while Nathan had paced.

Nathan nodded to himself and went. At this time of day there was still enough activity that a few people greeted him, waiting around the hallway for other friends, presumably for an afternoon out in a park, cinema or some party or other. That would have been some kind of alternative, too, instead of sticking around Warren's room. But then neither of them felt like going out tonight. 

Once in the bathroom, Nathan had grown used to the luxury of having his own bathroom instead of having to share, he locked himself in one of the stalls. His hand slid in his pocket. For a moment, with his back leaning against the bathroom stall, he felt dirty, as if he was here to jerk off instead of calming down his mind. Then he felt a rush of cold as his fingers closed around nothing at all.

His pocket was empty.

His mother _fucking_ pockets were empty. Both of them.

The string was gone. 

Cold sweat broke out on his skin. For an awful long moment he couldn't breath. Then he walked back to Warren in a daze, trying to count to ten but he kept jumbling up the numbers. If only he had just checked this moment. 

"You look like shit," Warren said and jumped to his feet. Nathan didn't want to know what his own face must look like for Warren to react with shock. 

"I have to go home."

Alarmed, Warren stepped closer. "Did something happen?"

Nathan shook his head. "No everything's fine," he snapped, which, frankly, was a stupid thing to say he realized just as the words had left his mouth. 

"Hey, I can help you," Warren told him. "Or at least I can try to." He looked hurt. 

Nathan didn't feel like explaining himself to his fuck buddy while his hands were shaking, he thought nastily. Everything was spinning out of control again. Warren gripped his hands, restraining him or at least it felt like that. Something inside of Nathan, a tiny piece, snapped back into place. He licked his lips. A part of him wanted to run, still. Back to his apartment, but he stayed put, partially because he wasn't sure he wouldn't just shake apart and cry.

He stared down at his hands, at Warren’s fingers curled around his wrists, immobilizing them. 

"Do you have a tie, or something?"

Fortunately for him, Warren seemed to understand and got to his feet without another word, not demanding an explanation like Nathan had feared.   
Nathan stuck his trembling hands underneath his arms while Warren rummaged through his clothes, producing a blue tie a moment later. He sat back down beside Nathan and handed it over. 

Nathan felt self-conscious under his gaze as he wrapped the tie around his wrists until he couldn't move anymore, then he curled up on the couch, hiding his hands between his bend knees and chest from Warren's curious brown eyes.

"Can we go back to watching a movie?" Nathan hated how his voice was shaking. 

"Of course. Anything you need, Nathan," Warren mumbled.

The movie started. Nathan could feel Warren's glance his way every few times. 

"Just ask," Nathan said tiredly, when he felt a little calmer, a little steadier. He had never tied up his hands while in company before, getting walking in on hardly counted. 

"Does it help? Sorry, it's probably a stupid question," Warren said, carefully he leaned closer and Nathan let himself fall against his shoulder, uncurling slightly and looking down at the blue fabric against his skin. For some reason the fact that it belonged to Warren was calming in its own right. “I know you did that the first morning after we met.”

Nathan gathered his thoughts. Except for his therapist he hadn't ever actually spoken about it either. "Yeah it does," he said, slowly. "It calms me down. You know I can't -hurt- people like this." Chloe had looked shocked when the gun had gone off and then she had dropped like a stone. Nathan didn't know what kind of expression had been on his own face in that moment, he had been too busy panicking. He hadn't meant to pull the trigger at all. 

She hadn't woken up when he had shaken her shoulder, turning cold under his hands. 

Warren's fingers wrapping around his wrists brought Nathan out of the memory. He was feeling cold, but the pads of Warren's thumbs were points of heat against his chilled skin. 

"I'm sorry," Warren said. Nathan wasn't sure what exactly he was apologizing for. It was Nathan who had killed Chloe after all. "For bringing back bad memories."

Nathan smiled weakly. "It's okay. Gotta face up to it after all. That was what therapy is all about." He fell silent again, but curled a little more comfortably against Warren, after a while, fighting back tears of exhaustion. He closed his eyes. Suddenly he felt tired beyond imagination, as if all the energy had seeped out of him at once. 

Warren's thumbs rubbed circles into his skin, before moving. Unwrapping the tie only to wrap it back around Nathan's wrists in a different way. In a way Nathan knew from his own experiments. His eyes flickered from Warren’s face down to his hands, rolling his head against Warren's shoulder to watch his hands work, thoughtfully. 

When he caught him looking, Warren untied the tie again and then started over. It was strangely calming to watch as well as feel. He started a little farther down Nathan's arms then Nathan would. Usually. Wrapping the fabric up his arms, but not too tightly. He even added a little pattern where Nathan had only wrapped erratically, seeking the feeling of restraint. It looked rather pretty when he was done. Warren left the endings open, not tying them closed, but only held them in his hand. 

Again they turned back to the movie and Nathan moved, lying down so his head was on Warren's lap. He was so tired he could take a nap. So he did.

 

The locksmith didn't seem particularly happy with having Nathan at his back while he changed the lock so Nathan forced himself to go into the kitchen. He grabbed an apple and spied on the stranger in his home from the doorway, half-hidden from sight. The man, he decided, looked suspicious. Or maybe just nervous. 

His phone chiming was a welcome distraction. How long did it even take to change a lock anyway. The man needed to hurry. Nathan wanted him out of his apartment asap.

But for now he checked his phone. It was Victoria, a few messages from Warren as well. Warren was his usual chatter, gushing about movies and strangely enough, lately artists as well. Victoria asked if he wanted to hang out and go to the cinema- Nathan swallowed - with Taylor, Hayden and his boyfriend. Distractedly he asked whose boyfriend she meant. Probably Taylor's, but he wanted to make sure. Seeing them again would be strange. He was pretty sure Victoria had bullied them into hanging out with him. 

'Your boyfriend', Victoria's text read and Nathan's brow furrowed. 

'What boyfriend?' he typed back, glancing around the edge of his doorway to see if the locksmith had made any progress. He looked about done, both with the task at hand and Nathan's sneering presence. 

Nathan quickly shot a text Warren's way, too, complaining about the man in his flat. 

'Warren, dumbass.'

'We're just friends,' Nathan scoffed. Victoria of all people should know that sex didn't make a relationship. Sure, he and Warren spend a lot of time together, but then so had Hayden and Nathan and Victoria and him, too. With neither of them he had been _steady_. 'We're fuck buddies, nothing more'

'Whatever,' Victoria texted, 'you coming or not?'

Warren for his part seemed excited about going to the cinema up to the point Nathan told him who it was with, but he bounced back from it quickly enough and they made a date. 

The locksmith chose that moment to say his goodbyes and hand Nathan the bill before leaving. Almost immediately, Nathan felt better. His parents couldn't just come into his apartment unannounced anymore. The fact that he had opened his own bank account and bought a cheap apartment meant he was financially sound, considering the circumstances and he was going to go out with Warren. 

In a surprisingly good mood he ventured out onto his balcony, relaxed down to draw and let the sun wash over him with the knowledge that he had stepped a little farther out of reach of his family.

 

Taylor and Hayden were surprisingly chill when Nathan stood in front of them. Victoria had probably given them a piece of her mind. Otherwise they wouldn't be here and friendly. No, not for Nathan all on his own.

They greeted each other, Warren standing by Nathan's side. They talked about some inane stuff, making sure not to get on anything that was more than two years ago, that day in the bathroom like a void they skipped over. 

During the movie Warren held his hand and Nathan glared at Victoria when he caught her motioning towards them. But he didn't pull his hand away. 

After they went out for food and Nathan... actually enjoyed himself. 

 

"I have to be honest, I never thought your friends could be so nice," Warren said when they were back home, that was, Nathan's apartment. 

"You shouldn't have judged them so quickly," Nathan said and internally winced. Hypocrisy thy name is Nathan Prescott. 

"Touché." Warren leaned in to give him a quick kiss before going back to scrolling through his phone. 

"I shouldn't have judged you so quickly, either," Nathan allowed. His leg bounced a little. Despite his changed lock he still felt a little keyed up, like he needed to blow off steam before it got worse. Out of habit his fingers wrapped around the new string in his pocket. He bumped his shoulder into Warren's.

"Hey, do you want to go out?"

"Sure. Where do you want to go?" Warren asked, putting his phone away and getting up when Nathan did to grab his jacket. 

"Just out," Nathan said, "maybe somewhere fancy to eat?" 

Warren let out a laugh. "Somewhere _fancy_ , are you going to wine and dine me, Prescott?"

Nathan winked at him. "Maybe you'll even get lucky after, Graham," he shot back and still laughing they made their way to Nathan's car. 

The restaurant they went to was indeed the fancy kind. Victoria had talked about it once, giving her recommendation, which meant a lot coming from her. 

"I don't think we're dressed correctly for this place," Warren hissed into his ear, eying the immaculately dressed _other_ patrons. There was enough money in Nathan's bank account to get them seats, even despite the disgruntled glances they got. Someday in the future Nathan would have to get a job paying his bills unless he wanted to run back to daddy. He shuddered at the thought and Warren's palm slid along his back before he pulled out a chair for Nathan.

"I thought I was going to wine and dine you?" Nathan teased him and Warren ducked his head. 

"If you're going to pay I should at least try my best at being a gentleman."

Warren sat down opposite of him and took the menu the waiter handed him with a thanks. "So what do you want?"

Nathan's mind was still on something else, so he didn't think when he spoke. "My father's approval?" When silence greeted him he looked up at Warren, whose eyebrows had gone up to join his hairline.

"I meant to eat. Fuck your old man though."

Now it was Nathan's turn to duck his head. "Sorry." His hand went to his pocket. Whenever he touched his string now he was thinking back to the day he had napped against Warren, tied up and calm. It had been peaceful almost.

And Nathan wanted something...

They chose their meal and Warren's foot brushed up against his under the table. 

Warren asked him about his day and they made small talk, enjoying himself.

Nathan even ordered dessert after. For Warren.

"Hey, Warren?" he finally made himself ask. A public place was not the perfect place to start on the subject, but now that he had started thinking about it he couldn't stop. Being at home would have felt even more awkward, more intimate despite the subject. 

"Yeah?" Warren looked up from the ice cream he'd been eating. He looked so endearing Nathan lost his nerve.

"Nothing," he mumbled.

 

"No really, what was on your mind back there?" Warren asked when they were on their way back . Nathan concentrated on the road and swallowed around the lump in his throat. 

"I- Let's wait until we're back, alright?" He felt himself flushing, but his eyes fell on the phone in his hand. “Hey, I-- Warren?”

Warren made a non-committed noise in answer and looked back. 

“Can I just text you what I have in mind?” Nathan asked. It was stupid to ask such a thing, not normal in the slightest. A few years back Nathan would have just _done_ it, but four years was a long long time.

“Of course,” Warren said, “text away.”

Nathan did. 

 

Warren looked at him expectedly when Nathan sat him down on the couch.

"You read my text right?" Internally, Nathan groaned, because he had meant to lead with something more intelligent sounding. "I've just been feeling so keyed up and I liked it when you did it last time." Fuck, he was _babbling_.

Warren scooted closer. He looked happier than Nathan would have thought, given his excellent conversational skills. There was a flush gracing his cheeks. 

"Sign me up for tying you up." Warren rubbed the back of his head. "I've been thinking about it, too."

"You did?" Nathan asked, flabbergasted. "You've thought about tying me up?"

Warren flushed a little more. "Yeah," he said meekly. “I mean, you have all these pictures on the wall so the jump to _that_ was kind of obvious…” He trailed off.

At least that made Nathan feel a little better about his own fucked up desires. "Good," he said. 

"How do you want it? To be tied up I mean?" 

Nathan had only been thinking about the _tie_ again, for a start. No need to introduce Warren to the heavier stuff already, but when Nathan looked at Warren's red face he had a thought that maybe they were in the same boat after all. There were naked roped men and women displayed around his apartment. Warren had never commented, but he _had_ looked. 

Nathan looked around them, still at a loss. The choices were endless.

"What would you like?" Nathan turned the question back on Warren who let out an awkward laugh.

"Shouldn't you decide that? You want to be tied up after all."

Nathan shrugged and grinned bashfully. "I don't know. Something on my back? I want you to make pictures of me." His heart did a somersault at his own boltness. A few minutes ago he hadn’t even be able to _ask_ and now he felt as if he’d done a half-turn without noticing. Nathan ducked his head.

Warren tilted his in thought. “So, a photoshoot _and_ , uhm, more?” There was color high up on his cheek. To Nathan’s surprise, he then pulled out his phone and scrolled through it before holding it out to Nathan. 

Nathan was speechless. Warren had definitely put more thought into this then he had thought. Not even a week had passed since Nathan had explained his calming technique to him. 

"I've been thinking about it a while," Warren admitted. The screen showed a man on his back. Ropes criss-crossing over his chest, arms tied in front of his belly and legs spread and bend with his ankles tied to his thighs.

Nathan's heart beat a little faster. He swallowed and nodded his head, anticipation and _heat_ curling in his belly alongside the nerves. 

"Yeah, I want that." It was several steps away from having his hands tied, that was for sure, but in that moment Nathan wanted it. Wanted to know what it felt like, instead of only fantasizing about it. He couldn't do that all by himself in any case. 

Warren's expression brightened. "Alright, I-uh," he trailed off. "Do you have any rope?"

Nathan flushed. "I do." Never before in his life had he been so happy about there being a delivery service for everything. 

"Alright," Warren wiped his hands down the top of his pants. "Do you- do you need a safeword?"

The question hit Nathan unprepared. Fuck, he just wanted this whole conversation to be in the past already. "I didn't think that far. Did you read up on that?" he demanded. 

Warren let out a small self-deprecating laugh. "I did, I'm a nerd remember?"

"That looks up bondage etiquette, I'll never forget." But inside Nathan felt reassured. He nodded his head. "What about 'nerd'?" At Warren's confused look he clarified "as a safe word?"

"Sure you don't want to call me nerd during sex?"

"I really doubt I will," Nathan scoffed. 

"You never know, it could be kinky like 'daddy'," Warren said and laughed at Nathan's disgusted face.

"Stop it, _nerd_."

"Alright, so, we'll do it?" Warren leaned in to seal it with a kiss when Nathan nodded. 

"Can we do it now? Before I lose my nerve?" Nathan asked, carefully, heart beating up against his ribs. His hands were sweaty and he wiped them against his pants. _Before_ , he told himself, he wouldn’t have been nervous at all.

Warren bobbed his head, "yeah-- I don't want to lose mine either." 

At once they stood and Nathan wrapped his arms around Warren. "Thank you," he whispered. 

"Anything for you. And besides, don’t thank me yet. I could still be completely awful." Warren muttered, looking away.

Nathan tilted Warren's still-red face down and slanted his mouth other his, slipping his tongue between his lips when Warren gasped. 

"That's a-- nice thank you," he muttered when Nathan stepped back and lead him to his bedroom. Nathan pushed him down upon the bed and then, feeling self-conscious, stepped up to his wardrobe and pulled out a box from the bottom. He brought the rope over to Warren. 

"Do you want to be naked? Or dressed?" Warren throat worked as he swallowed. Nathan couldn't speak at all, so he simply took off his clothes, leaving him only in his black briefs. There was a tremble moving up and down his limbs.

"Do it," Nathan said, willing Warren to go on before he could change his mind. 

Warren nodded and Nathan shivered as he got to his feet. 

"Alright," Warren muttered and pulled out his phone with an apologetic look towards Nathan. "Sorry, I don't really know this by memory." He dropped the phone on the bed and took the rope. Nathan had laid out two of them. 

Nathan trembled as the rope was loped around his torso, wrapping around him again. Warren's hair brushed his shoulder and Nathan laid his arms together in front of him when Warren indicated him to. 

Round and round the rope was wrapped around his upper body, knots digging not uncomfortably into his skin where Warren wove it into a sort of pattern. "It probably won't look perfect," Warren mumbled against his cheek when he stood back in front of him, tying the last piece to the harness. The loose end he let tangle, but only for a moment. 

"Spread your legs, please," Warren said quietly.   
Nathan felt like he couldn't quite catch his breath. He gasped when Warren slid one end of the rope between his legs, tying a sort of harness around his crotch and ass. He lifted his bound hands, bending his arms at the elbow and rested them on Warren's shoulder to keep them out of the way as he worked. Then Warren helped him lay down on his back on the bed and spread his legs. Nathan felt exposed as he tied his ankles to his thighs, exposing him for all the world to see. Except they were alone and only Warren was going to see him like this. Nathan's breath hitched. Briefly Warren's fingers brushed against his.

"Are you alright?" Warren asked, stilling. His hands were on Nathan's waist now and Nathan wished he was touching him lower than that, or higher. The experience was so much more intense when someone else was the one tying the knots. And so much more frightening.

"I'm alright." His voice was faint. This was quite a bit different to his string, but he already felt calmer, if not less keyed-up. It felt more as if the pressure was building, mixing up with a low curl of something else. 

Jefferson had preferred his duct tape, to underline the point that his subjects weren't there by their own choice. 

And now Nathan had asked for this. 

"Where is your camera?" Warren asked him and Nathan flushed at his own position, spread open and tied on his bed and they hadn’t even bought the damn camera yet.

Nathan breathed in, and out. “It’s in my backpack in the living room.” It was always in his backpack. 

Warren stumbled to his feet. His walk looked unsteady as he disappeared from the room, only to return again with a camera and a pair of scissors. Nathan raised a brow at the scissors, heart up in his throat. Upon seeing his look, Warren swallowed. "It's not what you think," he hurried to assure him. "It's just-- I thought you may want to get out of those briefs, later?" There was almost something like a squeak in his voice, making Nathan laugh at his nervousness, and his own.

"Yeah," Nathan said. That would make come in handy later. And it gave them more options for photos, he realized.

The rope dug into his skin, restraining him where he was. Nathan closed his eyes as Warren climbed on the bed beside him. Then Nathan flinched when the flash went off. 

“Sorry,” Warren immediately apologized, “I-- thought I was supposed to begin.”

The click of the shutter had momentarily left Nathan off guard and with a gasp he fought against the bond, the Dark Room flashing in front of him. 

“Hey, hey, Nathan, easy,” Warren said urgently, _frightened_ , and Nathan just as suddenly snapped back into himself. _He_ had never been with Jefferson, He shouldn’t sound so scared.

Nathan opened his eyes to his own bedroom, Warren’s dark, warm, worried eyes in front of him and his whole body trembling all over. “Don’t!” The words came out clipped, when Warren moved to untie him; before Nathan had even had the chance to think about them. “Wait,” Nathan said more softly, voice shaking and making himself swallow through a suddenly parched throat.

“I’m alright,” Nathan insisted, even while his heart beat erratically. Warren didn’t look convinced.

“The fuck you are,” Warren hissed, sounding more angry than he looked. The expression on his face was one of fear _for Nathan_. “We can still try this some other time, you know, when I don’t fucking trigger you.”

“I didn’t say my safeword,” Nathan pointed out, hating how shaky his voice came out. Quickly, he grabbed onto Warren’s hands, stilling them against his bare belly. “And it wasn’t your fault,” he lied, “the flash startled me.”

Warren’s mouth was pressed into a thin line. “You want me to continue, really?”

At the question it was Nathan’s turn to still. 

“Think about it,” Warren pleaded, “really think about it. I won’t do anything you don’t want.” 

_And what about your wants?_ Nathan thought, but didn’t ask. This wasn’t about Warren after all, wasn’t it, not right now. It was about Nathan and his stupid _issues_. 

Finally he nodded. “I want this. I-- I’ll keep my eyes open this time. That way I _know_ it’s you.”

Stiffly, Warren jerked his head up and down and raised Nathan’s bound hands up to his lips. “Alright, but remember your safeword. What is it again?”

“Nerd,” Nathan said, fondly, trembling, “It’s ‘nerd’ you nerd and I won’t forget it.”

"What pictures do you want?" Warren asked, still unsure, worry lingering around his eyes that Nathan wanted to chase away.

Instead he only tilted his head against the mattress. If he had to be honest with himself, he hadn't thought that far ahead. But maybe if this didn't chase Warren off, they could do it again if the pictures turned out to look like shit. His chest was heaving. “Just, make a photo of me like this,” he said and watched as Warren got to his feet, balancing on the balls of them on the mattress as he raised up the camera. 

“I’ll make them pretty later,” Warren promised, “I’m not a professional like you.” He winked, easing some of the coldness still sticking around in Nathan’s belly. In his head, when he had fantasized about it it had been less awkward, more sensual. Usual he hadn’t almost had a panic attack either. 

Nathan turned his head and swallowed, keeping his eyes open to watch Warren move in his periphery. Purposefully casual, Nathan moved his leg, tipping one until it was resting against Warren’s, still standing over him. There was something tantalizing about being almost naked while Warren was still dressed.

“The mirror,” Nathan said, jerking his head to indicate it, to which Warren only nodded his head, endearingly focused on his task. The mattress rose a little when Warren stepped back onto the carpet, but not before he slid a palm over Nathan’s arm, interlacing their fingers briefly. Then he turned to the mirror.

The shutter clicked and Nathan tilted his head, arching his neck and meeting the eye of the camera through the reflecting surface. After, Warren turned back to him. It was awkward, not as smooth going as Nathan would have liked. He was too _aware_ of himself, of the camera pointed at him until the bed dipped under Warren’s weight and he knelt between his legs. 

“I’m thinking,” Warren said carefully upon meeting Nathan’s sullen gaze, “that it’s time to get on to the next part, alright?”

Curtly, Nathan nodded and sighed when Warren touched him, laying the camera to the side and letting his palms roam over Nathan’s sides, up over his chest. 

One of his hands slid up his arm over his neck and into his hair, petting, before roaming down, featherlight over Nathan's throat and collarbone. The tips of his fingers trailed over Nathan's chest, over rope and skin, brushing against a nipple and making it pebble. 

Nathan let it happen, anticipating every brush and stroke of Warren's hands and looking forward to the next. This was a whole different experience, but no less good, both calming and exciting in a way, the way he was restrained. After a while his cock hardened, stimulated by Warren's fingers trailing sparks against his skin. Nathan let his legs close against Warren’s sides, cradling him between his thighs as much as the ropes allowed before he let them fall to the side again and Warren didn't disappoint, letting his hand trail low over his belly, too, and teasing fingers against the rope right above his crotch and above his underwear. 

Suddenly Nathan was disappointed that he hadn't gone fully naked. With the way the rope was wrapped around his lower body it made it impossible for Warren to simply slide a hand into his underwear, but Warren seemed to have no such hangups. He roamed his hand up and down, navel to collarbone and back again, before pressing lower, cupping Nathan through the fabric of his briefs. Nathan wondered what he looked like now.

He exhaled, shakily, a small moan slipping out. 

"If only you could look at yourself," Warren sounded as breathless as Nathan felt. His pupils were dilated when Nathan opened his eyes again and looked up at him. Then he had to moan as Warren squeezed him through his underwear again.

"I will if you make a picture," Nathan gasped and Warren's mouth dropped open.

There was only a moment’s delay before he picked up the camera once more.

Nathan let out a frustrated moan when Warren took his hand away. He couldn't _think_ with Warren's hands on him, or away, all his mind was focused on the way the rope felt pressed against his skin. The lack of give and the softness that was Warren's hand touching him all over. Except where Nathan needed him to. The shutter sounded, but this time it didn’t startle him.

He wanted _more_ than soft touches.

"Let me suck you," Nathan panted and Warren indulged him with a wide eyed awed look on his face, camera forgotten as quickly as he’d picked it up. Gently, he helped Nathan turn onto his side and laid Nathan's head down against the mattress before curling around him, crotch in front of Nathan's face. The fact that he was still dressed only turned Nathan on more. He felt as if he was slipping into a trance.

Warren's hand was shaking, Nathan saw, when he opened his pants and took out his cock, which was just as hard as Nathan's.

Nathan opened his mouth willingly, accepting Warren's cock as it pushed inside and groaning in frustrating when he only did so shallowly, teasing the head in and out between Nathan's lips. Then he moaned when Warren slid deeper, choking a little when the head of his cock brushed up against the back of Nathan's throat.

"Shit- sorry," Warren said and pulled out a little. If Nathan's mouth hadn't been full at that moment, he would have told Warren it was fine, that he should do it again, but as it were he only pressed the flat of his tongue against the underside as Warren thrust in and out, hollowing his cheeks. His own cock was straining against the front of his underwear and Nathan moaned in appreciation as Warren's hand kneaded him again through the fabric, making him buck his hips and arch his back into the pressure. 

Way too soon, Warren pulled back out. "Fuck, Nathan I'm too close." 

"This is bad how?" Nathan sounded wrecked even to his own ears. To distract them both, he mouthed as Warren's cock and let out a noise of distress when Warren moved his crotch out of reach. 

Warren was panting when he pressed his mouth over Nathan's and Nathan tilted his head back, opening his mouth for Warren's tongue. 

"I want to fuck you, can I?" Warren whispered hotly against his lips when he pulled away, letting them both up for air. 

Nathan nodded, moving jerkily against his bonds and cursing when the bonds held tight and he couldn't wrap his arms around Warren to pull him in. He arched his back and spread his legs. “Just make a picture first,” Nathan teased him, out of breath.

Warren almost _fell_ between them in his hurry to get into him and Nathan let out a throaty breathless laugh when the shutter sounded, lips red and swollen. Then _Warren_ cursed. "Damn," he muttered, faced with the fact that he couldn't simply pull the fabric out of the way, on one hand because of the rope, on the other because Nathan liked his underwear tight enough to easily hold everything in place, so to speak. 

"Fuck," Nathan cursed, too, before he had to laugh with Warren joining in and evaporating the last of the awkwardness. Warren pulled the front of his briefs down, out from underneath the rope to hook underneath Nathan's balls. Then he leaned forward and Nathan moaned when he mouthed at the underside of his shaft. 

"Are you attached to these briefs?" Warren asked, panting, and Nathan shook his head before he really thought about it. Either way his answer would have been the same. "Do it."

Warren curled his fingers into the fabric, holding it away from Nathan's skin in the front while the waistband against Nathan's back cut uncomfortably into his flesh. There was a ripping sound and Nathan felt air against his backside. He exhaled heavily, belly doing flip-flops. His cock twitched. 

"Fuck," he whispered, staring wide-eyed at a proud-looking Warren kneeling between his legs. “Did you forget the scissors are right there?”

Bashfully, Warren shrugged.

It wasn't really enough to get rid of his underwear exactly, but now Warren could fuck him for real. This time he didn’t even have to ask before Warren picked up the camera for further pictures.

"Lube's in the bedside table," Nathan offered, straining against his bond just so he could feel them hold, the knots points of pressure against his muscles. 

"I remember." Warren got up to his feet, stripping out of his shirt. He opened the drawer and pulled out the lube and a condom, dropping them beside Nathan's hip. When he moved to take off his pants Nathan stopped him. 

"Leave them on." Nathan flushed at his own request while Warren grinned self-consciously. 

"Alright, if you want me to." He settled back between Nathan's legs and picked up the lube. His fingers, when he slid them between Nathan's legs a moment later, were slick and he wasted no time teasing him before pushing them in. Nathan could have wept in thanks, because he would have cursed Warren to hell and back if he had made him wait now. 

His breath and the slick sounds of Warren preparing him sounded oddly loud in the quiet of the room. Warren pulled out his fingers and Nathan's belly tightened in anticipation as he watched him roll the condom over his cock and guide himself between Nathan's legs. There was pressure and Nathan moaned when Warren sank into him. He bend his legs towards his chest, bound as they were, and felt Warren's hands settle on them, keeping them in place as he pushed in to the hilt.

"Fuck," Nathan moaned. He was sweating, shaking, as Warren pulled out with a groan, holding himself still while only the head of his cock penetrated Nathan, until Nathan bucked up and he thrust back in with a curse of his own. The pleasure was curling tighter in Nathan's belly with every thrust and he cried out when Warren tried angling differently and brushed over his prostate, over and over.

"Fuck, Warren," Nathan gasped and Warren let out a startled sound when Nathan dug his bound hands into Warren’s shoulder, pulling at him and wordlessly asking him to slow down. 

"I can't believe you're expecting me to multitask," Warren said, voice breathless from the exertion. He didn’t even have to voice his request before Warren picked up the camera, pointing it down between their legs, to the place they were joined. Nathan’s breath hitched. 

Warren knelt back between his thighs, cock bobbing comically out of the front of his pants, but he kept them on just as Nathan had asked him to. The metal of the scissors was cool against Nathan's overheated skin, but Warren was gentle as he cut the material and pulled the fabric away, leaving Nathan naked except for the rope. 

The need to feel Warren back inside of himself, to _come_ was still present. 

"Put your cock back into me," he groaned, moving slightly to feel the bonds and licked his lips as Warren moved into place, camera slipping against Nathan's hip with the motion. He moaned softly when Warren bottomed out, cock stretching him open. 

Then Warren groped for the camera again. 

When Jefferson had photographed him, Nathan had been out of it. Duct-tape had bound him and he had always laid on the cold hard ground of the Dark Room. Fuck that. Jefferson had been obsessed with innocence getting lost, the exact moment when it turned into corruption and his subjects wondered or realized where they were.

_Fuck that._

There was nothing innocent about the way Nathan was speared on Warren's cock, rope contrasting against his skin; his choice to made. His mouth dropped open on a moan as Warren raised the camera to his face and shot a picture. The lenses dipped down as Warren aimed it to the space between Nathan's legs where they were connected. He was panting quietly, moaning when he pulled out until only the head of his cock was holding Nathan open. A rapid succession of photos as he pushed back into him, groaning as he bottomed back out. 

Again he pulled out and thrusted into Nathan, whose mouth dropped open. He heard the shutter. The lenses was on him and he tilted his head, arched his back as Warren pumped into him. He didn't even need to put on a show. Warren was brushing over his prostate with every stroke, in and out, and the pleasure curled and curled in his body, _tightening_.

Nathan bit his lip before cursing. Warren dropped the camera beside him on the mattress, rhythm growing erratic and then the heat in Nathan's belly curled one more time before exploding outward, leaving him tingling and breathless from the rush. Above him, Warren pushed Nathan's thighs all the way against his chest, folding him in half as he moaned open-mouthed, eyes squeezed shut as his hips worked, pounding into Nathan's willing body. Then he cried out, squeezing Nathan's thigh so hard he was sure to leave bruises as he pumped into him, stayed pressed right up against him as he spilled into Nathan. Nathan imagined he could feel him pulse inside of him. 

Then Warren slumped on top of them. 

"Fuck," Nathan mumbled. His body was slack. His left leg was tingling and he felt more relaxed than... ever. All the pressure had left him, leaving him a human puddle on the bed. Or at least he felt like that. Then Warren pulled out, tied off the condom before dropping it over the side of the bed. 

Nathan watched him sleepily as he picked up the camera again, mesmerized by the rise and fall of his chest. The lenses turned towards him, the shutter clicking away as Warren moved the camera this way and that, moving around Nathan's still form and pushed him gently into position.

"You're a mess," Warren said, putting the camera away and crawled onto the bed. Nathan let out a non-committed hum, almost asleep. Distantly, he felt the rope loosening and Warren's mouth on his. He let out a groan of discomfort as Warren straightened out his legs and massaged feeling back into them. It hadn't felt uncomfortable when he'd been tied up but now that his circulation got back to normal, he tingled all over. 

"You're amazing, Warren," Nathan mumbled and felt Warren's chest shake against his when he laughed. Somewhere along the way he had lost his pants, because a naked, not fabric-clad leg slid against Nathan's when he maneuvered him underneath the covers of the bed. 

"I love you," was whispered into Nathan's cheek as Warren curled around him from behind. Nathan would have liked to answer, but sleep pulled him under before he could reply.

 

Warren's hand was carding through his hair when Nathan woke up again. The TV was running some sitcom or other. Nathan didn't really pay attention. It was turned so low Warren had to read the characters' lips in any case. The camera laid on the bedside table and Nathan was itching to see how the photos turned out in the hands of an amateur, but he was still too sleepy to move, thoroughly relaxed.

There was a new question in his mind, one that Victoria had sparked weeks ago, but which only now floated gently to the forefront of Nathan's mind. 

"Warren?" he mumbled and Warren's hand stilled for a moment before resuming its motion. 

"Yeah?" 

Nathan tilted his head up, brushing his nose against Warren's cheek. "What are we?"

Warren hummed. "Well you're Nathan Prescott and I'm Warren Graham." He laughed as Nathan let out a frustrated groan.

"Thanks for that, _nerd_ ," Nathan said, "I said _what_ not _who_ are we."

Warren fell silent, but a smile was still tugging at the corners of his mouth. Then he scooted down, dislodging Nathan's head as he turned on his side so he was facing Nathan. He reached for Nathan's hand and pressed it against his chest. "What do you want us to be?" It was so carefully asked, a blatant non-answer.

Nathan's mouth pressed into a thin line. "Just answer the question, Warren," he said, "what do you _think_ we are?"

Warren shrugged, looking down at their hands. "I kind of thought we were in a relationship, you know, like the boyfriends kind of deal." The expression he aimed up at Nathan from under a mop of dark hair was puppy-like. "Am I wrong?"

Nathan hesitated and watched Warren's face shutter off. "No, I guess not," he said. "I've never been in a relationship." 

Warren grinned and Nathan made a noise of protest when Warren leaned in suddenly and pressed their lips together. "Don't worry about it. It's just like having a friend, but with sex." And those damn butterflies in Nathan's belly, he supposed. Nathan laughed and let himself be pulled against Warren's chest. 

"So," Warren said into his hair, "does my _boyfriend_ want to watch a movie?" He sounded so happy Nathan didn't have it in him to tell him to stop. 

"Or does my _boyfriend_ want to do something else?"

Nevermind.

"Cut the crap," Nathan grumbled, "your boyfriend's hungry." He flopped onto his back and laughed when Warren blew a raspberry against his chest.

"Where are you going?" Nathan asked when Warren rolled to his feet and stretched. He was still naked and Nathan didn't mind the view at all. 

"I'm going to get food," he said, grinning from ear to ear, "for my boyfriend."

Nathan flushed and rolled his eyes. "Get back to bed, we can get stuff delivered," he said and picked up his phone from the nightstand as Warren slid back against his side.


End file.
